


Deck Bitches, Deck the Halls

by marauders_groupie, rebellamy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas, Christmas Dinner, Dysfunctional Family, Established Relationship, Everyone's under one roof and shenanigans ensue, F/M, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Inspired by Christmas Vacation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-17
Updated: 2016-01-04
Packaged: 2018-05-07 05:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5444396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marauders_groupie/pseuds/marauders_groupie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebellamy/pseuds/rebellamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Bellamy and Clarke's first Christmas in their new house and what a better way to spend it than to invite all of their friends and family?  There's no way that could go wrong.</p><p>Christmas Vacation AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, you guys, we're finally posting this and we're lowkey super excited about this!
> 
> Every fandom needs a Christmas Vacation AU, right? Well, we're gonna give that to you. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Clarke closed the book she’d been reading, barely being able to focus on the words with the amount of Christmas spirit swimming through her head.

“Bellamy?” She asked, pulling him out of his computer screen induced trance. He pushed his reading glasses back up the bridge of his nose before turning to face her in acknowledgement. “What do you think about inviting our parents to stay for a while for the holidays?”

His face lit up at her suggestion and she knew he couldn’t say no. For all of his pretending that he doesn’t care that much at all, he was a family man through and through. “Alright, yeah. We’ve got enough room.”

“So - I was thinking - my mom and Marcus, your mom and Octavia.” And then she realized that the number would soon grow rapidly, seeing that Octavia and Lincoln came with their kids. “We’ll manage to fit the kids and Lincoln in too, right?”

“Sure. We’ve got the pull-out couch, and If all else fails, we can go out and buy an air mattress.”

Clarke smiled at him, already excited at the prospect of having a Christmas just like the ones in movies. As an only child with two very overworked parents, she never got to experience the whole big family get-together. “We’ve got the house, we’ll have our family over - it’ll be a real Christmas. It’s just - this can’t go wrong, right?”

 Bellamy tugged her into his side, his laptop and her book long forgotten as they planned the most amazing Christmas ever. They’re adults, they could do it.

“Clarke, there’s no way that this can go wrong.”

But two days later, after phone calls had been made and flights had been arranged, when Bellamy received a very distressed phone call from Miller, the statement he had made the other night proved to be nothing but wishful thinking.

“Miller, calm down. What do you mean your flight’s cancelled?”

“I mean, our flight back to Arcadia has been cancelled due to severe weather. We could rent a car and drive back, but the roads are fucked and it would take forever,” Miller explained, sounding particularly exasperated.

“No way,” Bellamy quickly interjected. “You’re not driving in this weather. Just come over, the house is big enough for all of us.”

“You sure, man? I know your parents are coming over and - check with Clarke, did you check with Clarke?”

Bellamy barely stifled a laugh. It was no secret that Clarke liked everything to be meticulously planned (thus the third bedroom, the one for their hypothetical, future child) but he honestly believed that they could handle two more people.

“We’re good, Miller. Just get your ass over here.”

He was absolutely sure Clarke wouldn't mind. It was going to be absolutely fine. It wasn't like Monty and Miller caused much trouble, really. So when he delivered the news to her, he wasn't  expecting her to get mildly panicky.

“We can handle this. We can so totally handle this. No big deal. It's just us and eight other people, right? Ten people and two bathrooms. Oh God, Bell! Where do we expect people to shower and take a piss?” She had seemed moderately fine when she had started talking, but the stress progressed as she went on and now she had her messy blonde curls fisted on either side of her head.

“Relax, Clarke,” Bellamy told her, grabbing onto her shoulders and looking her in the eyes to attempt calming her. “It's going to be a great big Griffin-Blake family Christmas. It'll be magical, and you will love every second. Remember how confident you were about this last night?”

She deflated a little bit after that, letting go of her hair and searching his face for reassurance. “I suppose it can’t be that bad. They’ll - we’ll fit,” she announced, adamant. “We can do this. Griffin-Blake-Kane-Woods-Miller-Green family Christmas.”

“That's the spirit,” He grinned, pecking her on the nose. “But I do believe we will definitely be needing those air mattresses.”

She couldn't help but chuckle at him. It wouldn’t be bad, their friends and family. That’s what the movies were about, right?

But the thing movies forgot was stocking up on air mattresses and enough food for an entire army.

Not to mention the cleaning. Oh, the cleaning was the worst and Bellamy wasn’t particularly helpful either. While she practically ran around the house, stocked with cleaning supplies and insisted on Bellamy getting that especially nice silverware in the attic, her lovely husband heckled her.

“I think you missed a spot there, Clarke,” he pointed at the window she was just done cleaning. Alright, he wasn’t all that bad and she wasn’t about to go complaining he never helped around the house - she just preferred to do things on her own.

There was no spot and she turned around to level him with a severely unimpressed glare. “You could be helpful, you know?”

“Yeah, but it’s so much fun watching you freak out about this. I told you it’d be fine.”

After she turned around, offended (to be honest, she was faking offense only like fifteen percent), Bellamy stepped closer and wound his arms around her middle, nosing at her shoulder blade. Annoying, yes, but annoyingly cute.

“What’s got you so worked up, Clarke?” He asked, swaying them gently. She let out a puff of air.

“Honestly? We just moved in here. Like a week ago. And literally everyone is going to be here. And I just really want it to look nice, and I don't want Mom to judge us, or this marriage, or this house, or this Christmas. I just want it to be nice for everyone. A good old fashioned family Christmas, like you said.”

“Your mom is going to love it,” he gently whispered. “My mom is going to love it. Everyone’s moms are going to love it!”

She turned around to face him, bits of dust catching in her hair and her eyes giving away the fatigue of trying to get everything ready in time for the first guests to arrive.

“Okay, let’s not pretend for a second that you don’t want Kane’s approval as much as I want my mom’s.”

No one really wanted to remember the accident at their engagement party when Bellamy tried to show off his “awesome” (his words, not Clarke’s) magic tricks and succeeded only in soaking Kane to the bone when he pulled out a tablecloth under what must have been at least ten glasses of champagne.

Bellamy winced, obviously remembering the very same thing now going through Clarke’s mind, and he nodded. “Alright, everyone’s parents are going to love it. What’s for dinner?”

“Your head on a stick if you try and suggest I should make it.”

He put a hand over his heart, fake-shocked. “I would never!”

 

They ended up ordering pizza, joined by an Enthusiastic Monty in a Christmas jumper and an ever stoic Nathan Miller, looking only slightly regretful that he was wearing a sweater that matched his boyfriend’s exactly.

“Sorry we’re having to impose on your whole family christmas thing guys,” Monty had said upon entering.

“It’s really no trouble Monty, you two were such a big help with moving and stuff, it’s really the least we could do,” Clarke answered, taking his jacket and setting it aside. “Besides, it really wouldn’t be Christmas without your famous egg nog.”

“Thank you guys again, for the hospitality. Really means a lot,” Miller added with a smile, clapping Bellamy on the shoulder. “I really look forward to you slipping off the roof and busting your ass putting those lights up again like you did that time Junior year.”

“You’re never going to let me live that one down, are you?” Bellamy chuckled, following Clarke and Monty into the kitchen where the pizza was waiting on them.

“Never in your wildest dreams, Blake. Clumsiness like that is something people cherish. It’s endearing,” Miller claimed with mock seriousness in his tone, earning a playful punch from the other boy.

“Plus,” Monty leaned in to whisper conspiratorially, with a wink in Clarke’s direction, “it’ll be a good one for the kids.”

“Yeah,” Miller nodded at his boyfriend and suddenly, Bellamy suddenly understood why the two were dating, sarcastic little shits. “Little Napoleon and little Cleopatra really should hear about the time their dad broke his ass putting up Christmas lights.”

Miller grinned when Bellamy shoved him aside, moving away to get to Clarke. “I know they’re our friends but can we lock them in the shed? Please?”

“Why would I ever deprive myself of such valuable entertainment?” Clarke chuckled with a huge grin.

“Because you love your husband dearly and his pain is your pain?” Bellamy offered with a sheepish smile. That too would not pass, if Clarke’s unimpressed stare was anything to go by.

She was still grinning when she physically pushed him out of the kitchen. “Nope, I don’t think so. Boys, he’s all yours!”

They all piled up in the living room to eat, binge watching Food Network shows like Chopped and Cutthroat Kitchen and pointed out the sexism. It was actually a blast.

 

What wasn’t a blast was waking up at the asscrack of dawn (alright, 8am, but during the holidays getting up at 8am is equal to sacrilege) because someone was at the door.

Clarke scrambled out of the bed, shaking Bellamy awake and hissing at him to go get the door.

In pajamas and with a serious case of bedhead definitely wasn’t how Clarke imagined she’d greet her mother, Marcus and -

“Vera?” Clarke asked, trying to stifle the shock in her voice at the sight of Marcus Kane’s mother, a very kind but sort of flaky old lady. “I didn’t know you’d be joining us. Oh, sorry, come in, come in.”

“Of course, dear, I was delighted when Marcus asked me to come. Butterscotch?” she asked, offering a small toffee she managed to procure from her flowery purse.

She ushered them in as Bellamy hid away in the kitchen, pretending like he’s making coffee. Her mother wrapped Clarke in her arms, she did the small talk bit with Marcus and Vera, assured them that everything is absolutely amazing and going according to plan.

The real fun started when Bellamy placed coffee in front of all of them, only for Clarke to nearly choke on hers as Abby inquired, with an honest interest, “So, are you two trying for a baby?”

As Clarke sputtered, Bellamy rubbed her back and changed the subject, “So, I hear California is lovely this time of year. Really - uh - warm? Are you guys enjoying it?”

The festivities have officially begun.

She squeezed his hand tighter under the kitchen island, silently thankful. The subject was dropped although Clarke could still see that predatory look in her mother’s eyes, the same one every mother who wanted to become a grandmother had - frighteningly maternal.

They were just on their second cup of coffee and Clarke on her second minute until what would surely be a breakdown when a sleepy Monty stumbled in, accompanied by no better-looking Miller, prompting Abby to jump up from her seat and pinch both of their cheeks.

 “Oh Clarke! Why didn't you tell me Monty was joining us for the holidays?” Abby shrieked, clinging to the sleepy boys smaller frame.

“Well I actually didn't know until yesterday,” Clarke confessed. “But I'm happy you're pleased with his presence, I guess,” she chuckled faintly. What came next was murmured under her breath. “God knows I’m not pleased with anything.”

Only Bellamy seemed to catch that and somehow, by managing to rope Miller into explaining Marcus and Vera all about his job, slipped out of the room, tugging Clarke along. It wasn’t even nine in the morning and she already looked weary.

The thing was, the original eight was alright. Eight she could handle. Eight was a good number, two cubed, manageable.

But now Vera was there, too, and while Clarke didn’t explicitly mind it, she was feeling a little panicked. 

“Clarke, are you still with me?” Bellamy asked, sounding almost frightened as they managed to close the doors to their bedroom.

“Honestly, I feel like I’m still in that kitchen. I’ll have flashbacks, Bell.”

“Listen to me, we can do this. We can handle this. That’s marriage, dealing with crazy relatives. Together.”

“The wedding was six months ago, Bell. That’s was the last time I actually saw my mother in person. Face to face. And she’s already down my throat about grandchildren, Bellamy. Grandchildren. I want to have a thousand babies with you, I do. But I would appreciate it if she wouldn’t question our sex life with her boyfriend and his mother present.”

“Is that the only thing that’s upsetting you?”

“This is slowly becoming an episode of Full House. I’m not Bob Saget, Bell. I’m not strong enough to be Bob Saget,” she whisper yelled in one full breath.  

 “I believe in you, Princess. If anyone has the strength to be Bob Saget, it’s you.”

With that, he pressed a peck to the top of her bird’s nest of hair, embracing her in what seemed to be one of the last moments of calm they’d get. Clarke’s mother’s squeals could be heard even through two doors, Vera was offering butterscotch to someone else and Clarke regretted not investing in thicker insulation.

“I can’t wait for Lincoln to get here. His brooding silence is so comforting,” She mumbled into the fabric of Bellamy’s t-shirt.

“But with Lincoln comes an extremely rambunctious pair of twins I know, and Octavia at Christmas time is not a force to be reckoned with,” he warned her with a smirk.

“You're supposed to be making me feel better, dipshit,” she scolded without heat. “Your mother can help me hold down the fort. I only married you for her, to be honest.”

“So I’m not even a trophy husband?” Bellamy gasped, completely ridiculous with his messy curls and still in his pajamas. In an alternate universe, Clarke would drag him back to bed and spend the rest of the day right there.

But this wasn’t an alternate universe, even if it did look like a Full House episode.

“Not at all. You don’t have what it takes. Namely, the ability to shut up and smile for the camera.”

Bellamy tangled their fingers together, bringing her hands up to his lips to kiss her knuckles. “We’re still awesome.”

“Yeah, we are.”

“So, what’s next?” he asked, swinging their joined hands at their sides.

“Well, I was thinking you could go pick us out a nice tree. I have a ton of grocery shopping to do, so we can hit two birds with one stone. I’ll even pick us up some extra lights and stuff while I’m out. And you can bring Marcus with you! It'll be fun,” she exclaimed, bouncing on her heels.

“What about your mom and Vera? Won’t they get bored?”

“They can come with me,” Clarke shrugged. “Mom loves to shop in all forms, and Vera can buy some butterscotch that isn’t sixteen years old.”

“But I love lint-covered stale candy,” Bellamy mock-pouted, earning a chuckle out of his wife. “The guess-the-mysterious-fuzz game is half the fun!”

“You know how I always like to say that I take it after my dad?” she asked, fixing up a serious expression. Bellamy nodded, obviously remembering all of the conversations in which Clarke couldn’t be more pissed at her mom. “Yeah, I think I’m more like my mom. See, we both did the right thing by hooking up with guys who have great moms.”

“You’re the worst.”

Clarke only laughed at that, shipping him off to get a nice enough Christmas tree with Marcus and hoping that it won’t end with someone getting maimed or killed. You never could know what’s going to go down when Bellamy was left alone with Marcus. It was like a ridiculous Russian roulette. Except, you know, more embarrassing.

For her part, Clarke managed to get her mom and Vera in the car as Monty and Miller waved from the front porch. The two decided they’d help with dinner that day, as a thank you for letting them stay over, and Clarke knew that even if everything else failed, Monty’s eggnog wouldn’t fail her.

“Where are we going, dear?” Vera chirped from the backseat, enthusiastically looking around as Clarke navigated the busy streets. A week from Christmas was the prime time for everyone to get panicked and start shopping fervently.

“We need groceries and decorations so, the nearest mall, really?”

“Oh, that’s lovely.” Vera beamed at Clarke, making the latter finally relax. There were just some people who made you feel warm and fluffy inside and Vera was one of them. “I hope they have those amazing ceramic peacocks. You and Marcus could really use a few in your garden, Abby.”

Clarke’s eyes flicked to Abby, an eyebrow raised in a question and her mother just sighed wearily, shaking her head in a don’t ask manner. “Of course, Vera.”

As she turned into the mall’s parking lot, Clarke couldn’t help a wicked grin. Oh, this was going to be good.

 

**  
**On the other side of the town, Bellamy was trying to break a very tense, very awkward silence with Marcus Kane. Clarke loved teasing him about it but Bellamy just couldn’t help wanting to impress the man. He never met Clarke’s father, the man having long passed before Bellamy even met her, and so Kane was the closest to Clarke’s father figure he’d get. **  
**

“So uh,” Bellamy began, eyes flicking from the road, to Kane, and then back to the road. “how has work been?” God he could kick himself. He was really bad at this.

“It’s been decent,” Kane countered, giving Bellamy a nod. “How has teaching been going?”

“Oh, it’s been great. I mean, it’s not going, right now, because of break and stuff. Which is nice, because of the off-time.”

_Damn it, Bellamy, get it together._

When Kane said nothing, only stoically kept quiet staring out the windshield, Bellamy ranted, “But, uh, my students are great. We just had Peloponnesian war reenactment. They were really enthusiastic about it, even had a couple of kids end up at the nurse’s.”

Kane frowned at him and Bellamy rushed to explain, aware of how it might have sounded like he supports violence. “Nothing big, just a few bruises when one of the kids broke the window. I mean, no one was actually really hurt.”

“How… interesting. And you said these are fourteen year-olds we are talking about?”

Bellamy finally realized that he was just digging himself in deeper and so he kept quiet for the rest of the drive, sneaking glances at Kane when the other wouldn’t notice and hoping that he’d forget all about the damned Peloponnesian war reenactment that seemed like a good anecdote at the time.

They reached the Christmas tree farm soon enough, thankfully, and set off in search for the absolute best tree they could find. Maybe it said something about him, but Bellamy wanted to make sure that they got the perfect specimen. Clarke would be happy, he’d be happy, everything would be great.

And they did - at 9 feet tall, with branches full of bristles and the greenest green he’d ever seen. Bellamy wasn’t sure what was better - the tree which would look amazing in their living room or the fact that Kane even cracked a smile as Bellamy stood near the tree, grinning goofily.

“This one’s a real beauty,” the salesman said, patting the tree like it’s a car. “It’s yours for a hundred bucks.”

Bellamy nearly choked on thin air when the salesman stated the price but he managed to recover quickly enough, masking it as a cough.

“A hundred bucks, isn’t that a little too much?”

“Well, sure,” the man shrugged, “but you seem like a man who’d want the best for his family.”

“Of course I do!” Bellamy defended, giving the tree a once over. It was gorgeous. It would look good in their living room but there were also added expenses of having to feed thirteen people. Most of which were either huge, had a huge appetite and two, his favorite niece and nephew who were still growing and thus demanded half a fridge worth of food.

“Well, then?”

“Are you sure it’s not seventy?”

He can haggle, he can totally do it. The summers he spent with his grandmother in the Philippines prepared him for it. This is what he’s been training for his whole life.

“Ninety-five.”

“Seventy-five.”

The man shot him a glare. “I’m no fool. Ninety. Take it or leave it.”

With a sigh, Bellamy got his wallet out and cashed out ninety dollars for the tree. It was worth it, he repeated all the way to his car, shouldering the fucking plant. They should’ve gotten the artificial one, it was nothing to be ashamed of.

This one did come in a pot, though. That’d give him points with Clarke who always moped about Christmas trees being cut down and dying after Christmas. _Dying_.

Kane clapped him on the back after they’ve strapped the tree to his Jeep’s roof, saying, “Well done, son.” and Bellamy couldn’t help a small, warm feeling in his chest. Yeah, this was the right call.

 

On the way home not even the silence was quite as tense. Instead, they chatted about Lincoln and Octavia’s kids, his and Clarke’s hypothetical kids (thankfully, Kane did not go so far as to outright ask him if they’re working on it - which. They were, it was awesome, practice makes it perfect and they’ve at least had enough practice.) and Bellamy wondered where had the time gone when they reached their street.

He swerved in, only to have to brake abruptly at the sight of a huge U-Haul truck unloading someone’s furniture on the pavement. It blocked half of the road and Kane said, “You’re not going to make it, son. Just go around the block.”

“It’s fine, Kane. I’ve got this.”

Checking the blind spot, Bellamy decided to be a normal, sensible adult instead of an overexcited dork who wants to impress his father-in-law and put his foot down on the accelerator.

“You-”

“It’ll be fine,” he smiled at Kane, shrugging it off and that’s when a horrible screeching noise came at his right, sending shivers down his spine because that would leave a scratch.

Bellamy only managed to blink before something very green and very big flew in front of the windshield, his first thought being ‘the government covered it up, aliens are real’.

And honestly, aliens would’ve been a much better scenario than the gorgeous, ninety-dollar tree lying on the road in front of them - split in half.

****  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Get your sleds. Or should I say...cookie sheets? It can only go downhill from here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with us, guys! <3

“Jesus fuck,” Bellamy mumbled, wiping a hand down his face in anguish. “Clarke is going to be so pissed at me.”

Kane let out a sigh, which almost sounded disappointed before he turned to look at the younger man with a proposition gleaming in his eye.

“We could always make a trip back to the farm and let that unreasonable salesman have a piece of our minds. He did sell us a defective tree for a pretty gruesome price,” Kane suggested, more mischief in his eyes than Bellamy had ever seen him sport in the entire time that he has known the man. “I think we can drive a hard enough bargain and get him to refund us with a new tree.”

“I like the way you think, Kane,” Bellamy chuckled.

 

After carefully extracting the fallen tree from in front of the car and trying it back to the roof, they headed off to the christmas tree farm. They didn’t really have much of a plan, and Bellamy wasn’t even one hundred percent sure that this would even work, but he was willing to give it a shot so he wouldn’t get exiled to the couch for spending ninety dollars on a tree only to have it tragically break in half on the way home.

“What do you mean you want a refund?” The man was giving them a look of utter disbelief, his brows furrowed and his arms crossed.

“I mean, you sold us a defective tree, and we want a refund,” Marcus countered, exuding the biggest amount of confidence he could as to not sound ridiculous.

“What the hell do you mean I sold you a defective tree? It was perfectly fine when you drove it off the lot for ten dollars less than I wanted to sell it to you for,” The man retorted rather grumpily. Bellamy was getting kind of frustrated, but Kane had insisted that he could handle it. It was kind of harshing on his ego, but he wanted to seem at least a little more mature. He’d already compromised his damn tree with his foolish antics. He wasn’t about to cost them another one.

“We didn’t even get the tree home,” Marcus explained, trying to remain calm. Bellamy could tell he wanted badly to yell. He’d experienced the man’s temper before when he was having a severe case of road rage, but he also knew that Marcus was the type of guy that believed arguments should be handled with civility. “And it just fell apart.”

Yeah, Bellamy thought, kind of like this Christmas.

“Just fell apart, eh? Just up and broke into two pieces right before your very eyes?”

“It slid off our car!” Kane almost shouted, his composure faltering ever so  slightly. Bellamy was actually finding it a little hard not to laugh at the exchange. They could easily just buy another tree and get it over with. Sure, he would be out another ninety bucks, but at least they wouldn’t have to deal with this asshole anymore. “Maybe if you would have tied it tighter this conversation wouldn’t have to be happening right now.”

But it was the principle. And Kane was stubborn.

They argued for probably another twenty minutes or so before Kane somehow got the guy to cave. Bellamy really admired his persistence honestly.

The tree they left with didn’t hold a candle to the one they had before, but at least it was something, and at least it was free.

As for Clarke, Bellamy couldn’t find her once he and Kane finally managed to get the tree into the living room. Vera and Abby were there; Vera watching soap operas with oddly polite Miller and Abby fussing over Monty.

“Is Nathan treating you right?” she crooned, picking invisible fuzz off of Monty’s sweater. Then she turned to glare at Nathan. “You better be treating him right, this boy right here is sunshine and deserves all the best in the world! Got it?”

Nathan looked shocked, Vera hummed pleasantly, Monty was amused and Bellamy figured it’d be for the best to leave them to their devices. Sure, that could mean someone getting maimed but hey, that’s the spirit of Christmas.

Bellamy checked the bedrooms, bathrooms, hoped he’d find Clarke hiding away in the garden but she was nowhere to be found.

He chanced a peek into the living room where everyone seemed to be getting along now. “Hey, have you seen Clarke?”

“Follow the trail of groceries,” Miller instructed him, grinning smugly and while Bellamy considered that to be extremely weird, he stepped out in the hallway.

Brown paper and plastic nylon bags were practically everything one could see when entering their house; the hallway was overflowing with them, a few scattered on the staircase, some of them forming a trail leading to the kitchen.

All in all, there was a lot of damned groceries and Bellamy was just making a budget in his head when he heard a muffled “oof” and the sound of something - or someone - hitting the ground.

It would appear that that was Clarke, knocked down to the kitchen floor and rubbing her head with a frown. Cans of tomato soup were rolling around her, lettuce and carrots were all over the place and she just looked confused.

“Am I dead?” she asked him, wide eyed and sort of hopeful. “I am dead. The groceries have killed me.”

And then she clutched the hand he’d extended to help her up, trying to control his, as she called them, mother-henning instincts, whispering solemnly, “You have to avenge my death, Bellamy. Bring honor to our Christmas and slay the evil groceries.”

The serious look on her face as she made him promise to avenge her death, strong-willed and resolute as Clarke is wont to be, would have been ridiculous had their lives not spiralled into absurd mere twenty-four hours earlier.

This way, Bellamy slid a hand into her hair, pressing his lips to her forehead and chuckling into it. She sighed a little tired, a little sad, mostly just Clarke who could be the world’s most serious person but also the most confused one, and his wife.

“I promise I’ll do right by you and our Christmas.”

“That’s all I need,” she whispered, nuzzling his jaw and kicking the stray soup can aside. “Dishonor on the soups, dishonor on their grocery stores!”

 

After 3 long hours of tag teaming with Monty and Miller to get all the groceries organized and put away, the house finally didn't look like Costco anymore. And just as soon as their work was done, there was a knock on the door.

Clarke peeled herself away from the comfort of the couch, dragging Bellamy along with her. She knew it must be his mother with Octavia, Lincoln and the twins. O had texted her a little while ago saying their flight had landed.

Clarke opened the door with a smile on her face. She couldn't wait to see her niece and nephew.

“We’re back bitches!” Octavia shouted as soon as she was visible, and Clarke chuckled at her, bringing her sister in law in for a hug.

“It’s so so good to see you!” Clarke exclaimed, squeezing her tightly.

“Mommy said ‘bitches',”her nephew, Percy scolded with a chuckle, looking up at his father expectantly.

“Percy! That's a no-no word!” his sister, Petra warned him. “Ooooh you're gonna get a whoopin’.”

“Nobody’s getting a whoopin’,” Lincoln corrected, bending down to his children. “But you still have to remember to be extra good for Santa, right?” He said in the tiniest, gentlest voice possible.

The twins nodded violently, then turning to run towards their uncle Bell and embrace him in a tight hug.

“There's my favorite little devils,” Bellamy swooned, scooping them both up into his arms.

Clarke smiled at him, and then turned back to face Aurora, Octavia and Lincoln.

“How was the flight?”

“Oh it was just fine,” Aurora assured her with a smile. “Octavia decided it would be best to give the children a few Benadryl to keep them at bay, and it was divine. They slept clear through the whole trip.”

“Glad to hear it was peaceful. Hope you didn't get too used to it though, because we have a full house for the holidays,” Bellamy said with a chuckle, releasing Percy and Petra to go greet everyone else in the living room while he moved to hug his mother and sister, and shake hands with Lincoln.

“Oh! Aurora, it's lovely to see you! I was so delighted when Clarke told me you’d be joining us. Now I have someone else on my side,” Abby told the other woman with a wink. “I know you're just as ready to be a grandmother again as I am.”

“Oh? You're trying?” Aurora asked with a shimmer in her eyes when she turned to her son.

“Jesus, Mom,” Bellamy grumbled, his cheeks turning a brilliant shade of pink.

“Bellamy Blake, don't be such a baby. It's nothing to be embarrassed about, it's wonderful!” His mother cooed, giving his cheeks a firm pinch. “Nathan, Monty! What a pleasant surprise!”

Using the distraction which was the Woods and Aurora Blake arriving, Clarke slipped off into the kitchen, tugging Octavia with her.

The thing about Octavia was that she was the closest thing to a Christmas miracle worker. Even though the martial arts instructor seemed more like she’d kick your ass than deck the halls (alright, she would kick your ass if you didn’t deck the halls), Clarke had never seen someone more enthusiastic about Christmas.

“What’s up, sister dearest? You hanging in there?” She motioned towards the living room, out of which raucous laughter could be heard - along with someone singing a dirty rendition of Jingle Bells. And Raven wasn’t even here.  

“You want me to lie or?” Clarke asked, raising an eyebrow as Octavia perched herself on the counter next to her. “My mom and Marcus brought Vera who, for some reason I can’t even begin to understand, really wanted a garden gnome. Miller and Monty are here too and they’re lovely but our house is ripping at the seams. I need you, Octavia. I need that Christmas charm you’ve got. That-” Clarke gestured vaguely. “That thing you do to keep everything under control.”

“You mean, dose everyone’s coffee with sleeping pills?” she grinned. “Yeah, I don’t do that anymore. Kids and everything, I’d be setting a bad example. Like it isn’t enough that Petra got into a fight just the other day and Percy nearly set our dog on fire.”

Honestly, Clarke wasn’t even surprised. She loved her niece and nephew but they definitely took it after Octavia when it came to temperament. Lincoln was mostly resigned to sighing.

“They’ve grown so big,” Clarke observed when the two ran past the kitchen, Bellamy following soon after. He just waved at them before yelling out for the two to stop. They wouldn’t. They never did. And yet, they were Clarke’s favorites.

Octavia smiled at her, something wistful in it. “I don’t want to sound like the moms, but - any news on the kids front?”

This time, it was Clarke who grinned because she’d been dying to tell someone. She wasn’t even sure that she wasn’t just making things up until her last doctor’s appointment when it was confirmed that she was, in fact, very much pregnant.

Octavia seemed to realize what was going on, her eyes widening comically and proportionately to her smile. She smacked Clarke’s arm and whisper-shouted, “Shut up! No! Really?”

Clarke nodded, bubbling with pride and joy because it finally felt real. They were having a baby, sooner than they’d expected. It was normal for some time to pass before a couple was able to conceive but it must’ve been all that practicing that did it in the end.

“Two months now.”

Octavia jumped off the counter, bouncing on the balls of her feet as her eyes flicked from Clarke’s face to her still flat stomach and she gasped. “Does Bell know?”

“No, I only just found out and it was in time for Christmas so I thought I’d, you know, go all like - merry Christmas, we’re having a baby!”

“He’s going to have a heart attack!” When Clarke frowned, Octavia rolled her eyes. “In a good way. Relax. You should stick a bow on your stomach, really fuck him up.”

The mischievous glimmer in Octavia’s eyes sort of scared Clarke but the whole situation with her family scared her anyways. It was just nuances now.

“Oh shit, Abby and our mom are gonna flip out. It’ll be such a train wreck, I can’t wait to see it!”

“Can’t we just not tell them? Like, send a card when the baby is born? I don’t think I can handle all the questions.”

“You’re just stubborn, Clarke. That’s your problem. I say to hell with them, tell them you’re pregnant right now and let them coddle you as you boss them around.”

Clarke imagined what it must be like to put your feet up and do nothing but relax for the holidays. It sounded wonderful and very, very unlikely. Besides, her mom and Vera would probably join her and that’s a scenario she does not want to see happening.

The bossing around part she could get behind.

Bellamy, on the other hand, wasn’t doing so good. Between telling his mom all about the move, trying to stop Miller and Vera from singing dirty versions of family Christmas songs, and keeping an eye on his niece and nephew - he developed even more understanding for Clarke.

But they wanted to do this. The whole family in one place and, hopefully, in one piece was the dream. He and Octavia grew up with their mother always working - that often included Christmas - but they made the best with what they had. Still, it was nothing compared to having all the people you love under the same roof.

Even if he had to physically pry Petra from handing a box of matches to Percy who justified his actions by saying, “I just wanted the tree lit up.”

Then he pouted and there it was - his sister’s genes - looking cute while being incredibly destructive.

“Alright, Perse, that’s not what we mean when we say we want lights on our tree.”

“Mom said you love us, uncle Bell!” Petra whined, mimicking her brother’s face and absolutely melting Bellamy’s heart. “I don’t feel very loved right now!”

_Jesus Christ._

“Sure I do, Petra, I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he reassured her, patting her head and dragging both of them into his lap in one of the last peaceful corners of their house. Kane and his mom were busy talking about one thing or the other and everything else was mostly a mess.

For some reason, Abby was yelling at Miller and Monty looked sheepish.

No, Bellamy wasn’t even going to try to understand that one.

“How about I tell you a story, huh?” he offered, at his wit’s end as to what to do with the kids. And the adults who were even worse because they thought they could get away with scary shit just because they could vote.

“What about?”

Bellamy considered it for a second before deciding. “A princess. A brilliant, smart princess who lived in a castle in a land far, far away.”

“Oooh,” they chimed in unison, their brown eyes wide and excited. This is why he loved kids. Kids didn’t question fairy tales, they just went with them.

“Well, the princess didn’t have a big family growing up. She didn’t mind it as her parents loved her very much and she always had her friends. But then, a lot of time passed and she met a prince whom she loved very dearly.”

“Did they kiss?” Percy asked, only to be smacked by his sister.

“That’s gross, Percy! Boys have cooties!”

“You have cooties!”

“Alright, alright, settle down. The cooties pass when you’re fifteen, you’ll see.” When he was sure that he had their full attention, Bellamy continued with what Clarke liked to call his old wise man face. “The prince and the princess loved each other so much that they decided to rule over the kingdom together. Their parents and friends were happy for them, if a little nosy. Don’t be nosy, kids. It’s bad for your health.”

“Did someone die?”

Bellamy chuckled. “No one died. But the princess wasn’t really happy with her family and her friends’ nosiness but she decided to invite them all for Christmas in her and Bell- uh, the prince’s castle. And so they arrived, bearing gifts. The princess, like I said, loved all of them but she had a hard time making sure that they all had fun. And the prince, well -”

A voice came from the doorway. “And the prince was inept and annoying.”

Clarke was leaning on the door, obviously having listened to them, but she didn’t look irritated. Instead, she was smirking at him and he motioned for her to join them. She settled on the floor next to him, Petra automatically climbing onto her lap and nestled there, much to Clarke’s amusement.

“The prince didn’t know how to help. His idea was always eloping, somehow. He wasn’t a traditional prince, alright? He was - “

“He was even better,” Clarke finished, flashing him a smile that had his insides turning to jelly. “The prince was really kind, really smart. A bit like your uncle Bell.”

“Princes are cool, uncle Bell isn’t cool.”

Clarke frowned at Petra, running her fingers through the girl’s hair. “Your uncle Bell is cool. He just hides it really well.”

And Bellamy - well, Bellamy was mostly gone. Seeing Clarke cuddle with Petra and Percy brought out something in him which manifested itself with a goofy smile that had his cheeks hurting.

They would be awesome parents.

“Like I said,” Bellamy continued, trying to look offended but failing to do so when the three of his favorite people flashed their puppy dog eyes, “the prince wasn’t inept. He just liked riling the princess up. It was because they were equal in everything, even in love, that he never worried about her getting angry.”

“And she secretly liked him for it. He was a worthy opponent and that’s why she fell in love with him, after all.”

Bellamy was sure none of them would ever forget the first few months of their friendship - more fighting than actual talking. It was because they were so similar but liked to pretend that they’re not. Octavia claimed that she still had flashbacks to all their ridiculous arguments and petty denial of their feelings for each other.

But now they were there - in the middle of the living room, married and never happier. All’s well that ends well.

“What happened with their families?”

“Ah, y’know,” Bellamy waved his hand, “the tree caught on fire, the princess threatened to unleash her dragon on them and all was well.”

 

They all milled around the house for a while, everyone getting caught up with each other's lives and getting settled in. It make Clarke smile to have almost everyone she loved under one roof. A few of their closests friends were missing from the mix, but for the time being, Clarke found a way to live with that.

They had gotten a pretty early start that day, so it was around three in the afternoon When Octavia proposed that everyone should go out sledding.

“It never snows in Walden,” Octavia pouted, making her best puppy dog face for Clarke and Bellamy. “The twins have never gotten to do it. And between you and me, neither has Lincoln,” she told them, whispering the last part so her husband wouldn't hear.

“I think that sounds like a great idea, O,” Bellamy said, clapping his sister on the back. “We can drive over to that park a few blocks over, there's a good hill there.”

“We don’t even have a sled, Bell,” Clarke protested. It wasn't that she didn't want to take the kids sledding, she just liked things to feel practical and well thought out.

“That's where you're wrong, Princess,” Bellamy chuckled, sliding an arm around her shoulders. “We have more than one perfectly good sled in the kitchen.”

“Are you referring to my cookie sheets, Blake?” Clarke asked him, raising an incredulous eyebrow at him.

“With a little grease on the bottoms they'll go faster than hot ticket items sell out on black friday.”

Clarke had to chuckle at that.

Bellamy, Clarke, Lincoln and Octavia and the kids all piled up into Clarke’s horribly ugly, but terribly efficient van. And Monty and Miller took Bellamy’s car. Everyone else stayed back at the house to play board games and made them promise to get videos of Petra and Percy sledding.

“Have you ever gone sleddin’, uncle Bell?” percy asked, swinging his legs absentmindedly in the middle row of seats. They didn't have their carseats, but Lincoln assured Octavia that they would be fine without them, since they weren't going that far away.

“I have gone sledding. I think you're really gonna like it, Perse.”

“What about Aunty Clarke? Have you been sledding?” Petra inquired, locking eyes with her aunt in the rearview mirror to the best of her ability. “Does it get your bottom all cold?”

“As long as you don't fall off your sled into the snow,” Clarke said with a small chuckle. She would love to be able to race them down the hill and tumble into the snow with them. But she wasn't really sure if it would be such a good idea, given her pregnantness.

They arrived at the hill in just under ten minutes, and the kids were buzzing with excitement. They unbuckled and rushed over to Monty and Miller to retrieve their makeshift sleds from Bellamy’s car.

Getting up the hill was certainly strenuous for all of them, as it was very steep, and they were all bundled up in their thickest coats since it was actually freezing, but they managed.

“Did you guys remember the Pam?” Monty asked, taking the cookie sheets from the twins and  laying them upside down. Octavia tossed him the can, and he sprayed them down thoroughly.

“Want us to give these a test run? Y’know, to make sure they're up to code?” Miller asked in Bellamy's direction, sporting a mischievous grin.

“Whatever the hell you want,” Bellamy chuckled, waving his friend off.

Monty, ever the gentle one in the relationship, decided that it would be a wonderful opportunity to demonstrate to the kids (and Lincoln) just exactly how sledding was supposed to go.

“Welcome to sledding 101,” Monty beamed in his best ‘teacher voice’ (which was honestly the same voice he used when he was mocking Bellamy but still. Same thing, right?) “I'm professor Green, and this is my lovely assistant Nathangela Miller.”

“No way, I'm the professor, you be the lovely assistant!” Miller protested.

“I am kink shaming you guys so hard right now,” Octavia chuckled, causing Clarke to laugh hysterically and almost tumble down the hill.

“It doesn't matter which one of us is the professor, just go with it,” Monty scolded, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he continued, shooting a heatless glare at Miller, mostly to earn a chuckle out of the kids, in which he succeeded. “First things first, you have to sit on your bottom, close to the back of your ‘sled', but not all the way back, and you pull your feet in like this,” he said, while providing a clear demonstration of what position to sit in.

“And then you blast off and whoop Monty’s tail! Eat my snow, Green!” Miller shouted animatedly before speeding off down the hill without monty, going so fast it almost seemed to leave a trailblaze.

The twins were cackling uncontrollably when Monty scrambled to take off and catch up to the other boy. He had been fumbling so much, that halfway down the hill, his cookie sheet rotated under him, and he was flying downhill, still backwards, at full speed. He had not taken into account the huge puddle that had accumulated at the bottom of the hill in the small ditch from all the melted snow, but now it was too late and he couldn't stop himself.

Tragically, as he reached the bottom of the hill, he toppled over backwards, and tipped into the freezing water of the puddle, totally soaking his head and the top half of his back. Nathan walked over to him then, offering a hand to help him get up, and monty accepted, only feeling slightly defeated.

Miller removed his trusty grey beanie, placing it on top of Monty’s shivering head and tugged it down over his ears. He placed a quick kiss to his forehead.

“I'm sorry, I love you, but that was absolutely fucking hilarious.”

They make the trek back up mount everest, and finally reached the top, out of breath both from laughing at Monty’s failure and the slippery climb.

“Okay, lesson number two, don't do what I just did,” Monty chuckled, bumping shoulders with Miller who was still laughing uncontrollably.

Petra and Percy were still giggling about the whole exchange when Lincoln was getting the pair of them settled onto one cookie sheet while Octavia boarded the other one.

“Mommy is gonna go down first so she can catch you okay?” Lincoln told them, making sure they were both fully on the thing.

“Okay. I don't want to end up in the puddle like uncle Monty,” Petra snickered.

Octavia had a quick trip downhill, nearly making the same mistake Monty had before she caught herself and flipped the tray the correct way around just before reaching the bottom.

“Okay, you can send them on down!” she called up, cupping her hands around her mouth.

“Put your hands up like you're on a roller coaster and scream really big okay?” Clarke told them, smiling widely.

The pair of them screeched and giggled wildly when they began their descent. At first they were too afraid to let go of one another, but eventually they ended up with their hands flailing wildly in the air as they whizzed down the steep incline.

“Again! Again!” they chanted once they reached Octavia at the bottom, jumping up and down with great enthusiasm.

“Uncle Bell! Will you pretty please race us?” Percy inquired when they got back to the top, dragging the heavy tin sheets behind them. Octavia had stayed at the bottom so she could catch them every time they came down.

“I think uncle Bell and Daddy should race,” Petra giggled, scrunching up her nose.

“I think that is the best idea I have heard all day, sweetie,” Clarke encouraged her niece with a smile. “What do you say boys?”

“Do you care to make a wager, Woods?” Bellamy proposed, smirking at his brother and law.

“With you? Not a chance,” Lincoln laughed before mounting his cookie sheet. Clarke couldn't help but giggle at how ridiculous he looked. Such a large burly man all hunched over on top of a fucking cookie sheet.

Much to everyone's surprise, Lincoln screamed like a small school girl as he made his way on down the hill, causing everyone to erupt in laughter.

The remainder of the afternoon was spent rolling around in the snow, throwing snowballs and sledding down the hill. There were plenty of laughs and smiles shared over the course of the afternoon, but pretty soon, it started to get colder and darker, so Clarke declared that it was time they headed home.

They all gathered around in the living room and drank hot chocolate, recounting the tales of their adventures to Aurora, Abby, Kane and Vera who all wore amused expressions and laughed heartily at the funny parts.

And when the twins both fell asleep cuddled up into blankets and nestled into Bellamy’s side on the couch, Clarke was really starting to feel like this was going to be the best christmas ever.

 

In the morning, Bellamy and Clarke were woken up by a strange giggling sounds. Clarke batted her eyelids open to see Bellamy smiling wryly at what, at first, seemed like a bundle of blankets at the foot of their bed.

Then the giggling sound came again and one frizzy curl popped up, making Clarke realize that these were, in fact, Petra and Percy.

She raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Bellamy who only mimicked for her to keep quiet as he spoke, “Huh, Clarke. I wonder where those giggles are coming from.”

Clarke played along, catching up to what he wanted to do. “Beats me, Bellamy! Maybe it’s the Christmas trolls hiding in our closet!”

The blankets rustled and the twins launched themselves between Bellamy and Clarke on the bed.

“We’re not trolls!” Percy protested, with a grin on his face.

“You’re definitely not trolls,” Bellamy granted, pretending to be very serious. “You’re even worse.”

With a tickling war started by Clarke, their morning lasted until it was nearly ten AM and she deemed it a good one - everyone’s cheeks hurt by the time Bellamy told the twins to go brush their teeth.

He scooted closer to Clarke, pressing his forehead to hers, a small, contented smile playing on both of their mouths. It was a good morning, she thought as she snaked her hands around his waist and pressed closer.

“What are the odds of the house not burning down if we have breakfast in bed?” she asked, nuzzling the skin of his jaw.

This was good, this was warm and she didn’t feel the particular need to face the day just yet. Her feet were still cold from the sledding yesterday and she shoved them between Bellamy’s, grinning wickedly when he yelped.

“You’re my personal radiator,” she declared, giggling when he kissed the tip of her nose and moved away. “Do we really have to get up?”

The answer was, she knew, yes and even though she’d much rather stay in bed, the rest of her family and friends were downstairs and she wanted to spend time with them. That was the whole point of the get-together which was stressful, yes, but very heartwarming.

She’s growing old. That’s why she wants to put up with all of these freaks.

The kitchen was a mess when she finally got ready. Octavia had turned on the radio, blasting the volume all the way up, which somehow ended up with Marcus and Clarke’s mom slow dancing in the middle of the chaos that was Bellamy, Percy, Petra and Miller running around.

Meanwhile, Vera was trying to coerce Monty into accepting a butterscotch from her and Lincoln stood by the pantry with Aurora, both of them carrying matching ‘we are done with life’ expressions.

The chaos didn’t faze Clarke - by now, she’d gotten used to it - and so she just strode in, poured herself a cup of coffee and, dragging Bellamy by the collar of his shirt, left for the living room.

“Having fun?” she asked.

“Yeah, we were just trying to get the kids to eat.”

“It’s chaos.”

Bellamy smiled crookedly. “What’s wrong with a little chaos, Princess?”

She was two seconds away from tangling him in the Christmas lights and stringing him up right in the middle of their front yard.

“Christmas can’t just be whatever the hell we want, Bellamy! We need rules!”

Bellamy was just about to speak and Clarke was getting ready to counter whatever he would’ve said when the doorbell rang.

They froze in their tracks, almost-spoken words on their lips, and exchanged frightened looks.

“Are we-” Bellamy started, casting a glance at the door and then turning back to Clarke.

“No."

“Should we open it or just pretend like we’re not home?”

As much as Clarke would’ve loved to do that, it was pointless. Everyone was too damn loud.

“No, let’s open it,” she decided, setting down the coffee cup and tangling her fingers with Bellamy’s for support.

“Together, Clarke.”

“Together.”

And together they opened the door, stomachs plummeting when they realized who was on the other side.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not a party until the house is bursting at the seams, and an evil cat joins the mix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the third chapter! We are so excited about the positive response we're getting from this fic and we are so glad you're liking it. Bear with me (rebellamy aka Dani) because I'm very new to posting on AO3 and am really technically challenged when it comes to this type of thing. I am but a small newborn being thrust into the world. Anyways, we hope you enjoy this next chapter!

 

The first thing Clarke processed was Thelonious Jaha’s faux-wise old man face, expression of serene calm plastered across it, and a cat. He was holding  persian, mean-looking cat. It just looked like it was about to set your house on fire and then sue you for property damage.

 

Basically, it was a mean fucking cat.

 

“Nerds!”

 

Raven sprang up from behind Thelonious, grinning wildly and threw herself in Clarke’s arms the second she saw her. Clarke sputtered a bit, spitting out Raven’s hair from her mouth, still trying to realize what was going on.

 

“I haven’t seen you two for so long, man! Oh, is that Abby?” Raven asked, perking up at the sight of Clarke’s mom. The two of them had the most incredible sort of friendship. “Abby!”

 

As Thelonious made his way in, Clarke spotted Wells behind him, three suitcases by his feet and an apologetic look on his face. Thelonious shoved his cat at Bellamy saying, “Here, hold Eggbert Cornelius. Take good care of him, he drinks only soy milk.”

 

And with those words, he walked right past them, acknowledging Clarke with a curt nod and a brief, “It’s devastating to see you.”

 

Finally, finally, Wells came in and wrapped her in a hug, sniffling. “It’s so good to see you, Clarke. Raven got drunk on the plane and my dad - well, it’s my dad, you know?”

 

“Are you crying, Wells?” she asked, incredulous. Her best friend sniffled again, moving away to look at her. “Was it that bad?”

 

“It was horrible. I’ll remember Raven shouting at the stewardess to get her more wine and my dad threatening to throw Eggbert at the woman for the rest of my life.” The last few words came out punctuated by long and deep sighs, truly displaying his level of done.

 

The cat hissed in still-confused Bellamy’s arms and Wells’ eyes widened. “Shit, he heard me. Fuck. Clarke, if I die, please tell Raven that I love her and name your first child after me.”

 

At that, the cat scratched Bellamy and jumped out of his grasp, fleeing into the kitchen.

 

“What the fuck was that thing?” he asked, looking towards where the cat ran away. “Whatever it is, I hope Percy finds that box of matches.”

 

“He can’t be killed, Bellamy,” Wells explained as Clarke tugged in the suitcases and shut the door. With the luck they had, there was a strong possibility of people just coming in from the street. “He can’t be chased away either. Raven tried. She nearly detonated him and he just scratched her.”

 

Their lovely little catching up was abruptly stopped by shouts coming from the kitchen. Clarke could recognize Thelonious’ and Vera’s voices.

 

“I did not fight in the war just so this old hag would offer me butterscotch!” A pshaw-ing sound came from the kitchen as Wells sighed again. “Butterscotch! Damn you and that butterscotch of yours to hell!”

 

Bellamy looked absolutely panicked when he started, “We should probably go see what’s going on.”

 

Then came Raven’s voice, “Get that cat away from me! What the fuck does it want?! Oh, fuck, sorry, shit - sorry, Octavia. You kids didn’t hear anything, right?”

 

“Fuck! Fuck! Shit!”

 

“Fuck! Fuck! Shit!”

 

The twins had apparently joined in on the fun and Clarke cringed at the thought of having to join the absolute inferno in the kitchen.

 

“I can’t go in, Clarke,” Wells whispered. “I can’t - it’s just too much.”

 

“Bellamy, get Wells the whiskey from the attic,” she instructed, squaring her shoulders and mentally steeling herself, “and pray for me because I am going in.”

 

It was a heartfelt goodbye, Bellamy lingering on the bottom stair to look at her one last time and say solemnly, “I will always love you. May we meet again.”

 

She watched the two favorite men in her life go upstairs, where there would be whiskey and possibly that pack of cigarettes she kept for the darkest days of having to deal with her family, while Clarke took a deep breath and stepped into the kitchen.

 

“Clarke, honey!” her mom exclaimed, promptly rising from the stool at the kitchen island and tugging her into the whirling hurricane of their family and friends combined. Raven was puttering around the oven with Petra and Percy, Marcus was trying to mediate between his mother and Thelonious and Lincoln, Octavia, Monty and Miller snuck off somewhere - the traitors.

 

“Isn’t it lovely that the Jahas and Raven came to visit?” her mother cooed, patting Raven on the shoulder. “Oh, Raven, are you showing them how to work the oven?”

 

Clarke pulled the plug and declared, “No one is showing anyone how anything works. Raven, it’s good to see you.”

 

“You too, Griffin.” The girl pulled her into a one-armed hug. “We thought it’d be good to surprise you, that’s why we said we wouldn’t come. And then we did. Surprise surprise!”

 

Clarke Griffin did not like surprises.

 

But she liked Raven so she just smiled in response. “And you brought Thelonious. And the bast- the cat.”

 

The cat which was now mysteriously gone which could only mean trouble.

 

“The cat is an asshole,” Raven snapped, her eyes narrowing in Thelonious’ direction. “The cat is the fucking devil and I don’t give a shit - “

 

“Careful, Raven, honey,” Abby said in a sing-song voice. “The kids.”

 

Petra and Percy were still standing next to them although they seemed sufficiently amused by the gas lighter.

 

The gas lighter.

 

Clarke snatched it out of their hands, crouching next to them. “Go find your parents. Whichever one of you can get them here will get a lollipop.”

 

Percy crossed his arms at his little ugly Christmas sweater-covered chest and demanded, “And chocolate.”

 

The kid would have a promising career as a negotiator, she’d give him that. “Alright, a lollipop and all the chocolate you could possibly want.”

 

Satisfied with the terms, the double trouble set off, nearly knocking Vera down. She still had a butterscotch in her hand and Marcus still looked at his wit’s end but Clarke could only deal with one crisis at the time.

 

“We’re glad to have you here, Raven,” Clarke told her, realizing that she was actually glad to see her friend. She hadn’t seen Wells and Raven since they’d moved to DC for work a year ago and Skype could only do so much.

 

“Of course you are, we’re awesome.”

 

When she made sure that her mom is going to take care of small talk and Raven is going to take care of setting on fire whomever needs to be set on fire, Clarke all but ran out of the kitchen. Surprisingly, the kitchen was where most of the shit happened.

 

Not that Clarke minded. She had too many valuables in the living room.

 

She found Wells and Bellamy hiding out in the bathroom and rapped against the door three times, their secret code.

 

“Who is there?” Bellamy asked through the door and Clarke kicked it.

 

“Your wife, you shitweasel! Let me in!”

 

“How do I know you’re not Eggbert pretending to be Clarke?”

 

“I don’t think cats can break down doors and that’s exactly what I’ll do if -”

 

She didn’t get to finish the sentence because Bellamy opened the door and pulled her in, shutting it as soon as Wells caught her.

 

There were two towels, a pillow made out of bathrobes and a bottle of whiskey on the floor and Clarke plopped down. Her hand automatically reached for the whiskey but she stopped herself last minute, much to Bellamy’s surprise.

 

“Uh, I haven’t eaten anything yet, so-”

 

It seemed like a good enough excuse, even though it wasn’t her best.

 

“How’s everything down there?” Wells asked sheepishly, obviously feeling guilty for letting her handle the situation on her own. “Did the cat kill anyone yet?”

 

Clarke frowned. “Has that happened already?”

 

“I’m not saying it did,” Wells started, averting his gaze, “but he nearly knocked a vase on Raven’s head after she wouldn’t give him milk.”

 

“Where did Thelonious get the cat anyways?” Bellamy asked, brows furrowing in confusion as he sat by the toilet seat, generally looking mopey.

 

“Hell?” Wells offered, taking a swig from the whiskey bottle. “No one knows. Dad just arrived one day and told us that his name is Eggbert Cornelius.”

“Eggy,” Clarke snickered, taking a seat next to her husband. Not that he looked like an adult. No, he looked like a scared kid who was definitely not ready for a murderous cat.

 

Well, neither was she, but she’ll be damned if she lets a cat defeat her.

 

Wells sounded bitter when he spoke, eyes drained of any sign of life. “He doesn’t deserve a nickname. He’s not a loving pet, he’s -”

 

“The devil,” Clarke finished. “I know. You’ve repeated that. Raven told me the same thing. I got it.”

 

“You know,” Bellamy joined in, “I was never happier that Octavia’s kids have a sizeable appetite for destruction.”

 

Shooting a glare in Bellamy’s direction, Clarke turned to Wells. “Are you and Raven okay, beside the cat?”

 

“Oh, yeah. We’re great. Do you guys even have room in here? We didn’t expect it to be this packed.”

 

Wells at least looked remorseful and Clarke wrapped him in a hug, thankful to see her best friend after the longest time they’d been apart. They’ve known each other since they were a pair of toddlers wreaking havoc in their diapers, and even went to the same college. Wells was family.

 

“You can take our bedroom,” Bellamy said and Clarke nodded. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re the ones who deserve it the most.”

 

“We’ll take the couch.”

 

The couch in their living was one of the fold-out ones. These days, they were considered retro and all of their friends cringed when Bellamy and Clarke decided to get it, but now they could grin victoriously.

 

They were smart, alright? They were

 

As soon as they managed to get Raven and Wells settled into their bedroom, moving their stuff to the downstairs bathroom, and made sure that the cat had no reason to kill them - having shown all due courtesy to it, Bellamy and Clarke met up by the door.

 

Bellamy always thought the hiding part of a relationship was over when you got married. There was no reason for you to sneak off somewhere to spend some time on your own, right?

 

Except that he was so wrong it practically hurt him. The two of them had to sneak now more than ever; exchanging quick kisses in the pantry or stealing a second to squeeze each other’s hand in support.

 

Now they were standing by the front door, everyone squeezed into the living room after Raven offered to make margaritas for the adults and smoothies for the kids, and they didn’t even have the strength for flirting.

 

And that said a lot.

 

“If we survive this,” Bellamy promised, “we’re eloping.”

 

Clarke smirked at him, leaning on the wall and looking every bit like she wanted to do exactly that but was too proud to admit it. “We’re already married.” To prove her point, she raised her left hand and wiggled her fingers, the golden band catching the light and reflecting it right in Bellamy’s eyes.

 

He pressed a quick peck to her lips. “I don’t regret a thing. The fact that our families are crazy only makes me love you more.”

 

“Because I’m the only sane one?”

 

“Weeeell,” Bellamy drawled out, shifting his gaze to the floor and Clarke smacked him. “Alright, Princess, I love you for you.”

 

Clarke rolled her eyes but he could see that she was resisting the urge to smile. That was good, a smiling Clarke was always good. “But, Bellamy, you know how we always wanted kids?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I’m not sure we can bring them into this family.”

 

He draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in until he could rest his chin on top of her head. “So we change our names, move to Alaska and trade our car for a moose.”

 

Clarke looked up at him, a small smile tugging on her mouth. “You want kids that bad?”

 

“I want everything with you.”

 

Marriage doesn’t kill romance, Bellamy could tell you that, if the fact that Clarke pulled him in for a deep kiss was anything to go by. He’d missed that, just kissing her, just existing next to her without all the hassle that a house full of relatives represented.

 

In the end, he just loved her. And for her, he’d take even Thelonious Jaha’s batshit crazy cat.

 

When the finally parted, Bellamy smirking at the sight of Clarke blushing - a little proud that he did that - and he was just about to tease her for it when the doorbell rang.

 

“No,” she gasped, covering her mouth with her hand and shaking her head with an absolutely bewildered look in her eyes. “Please, no.”

 

The knob rattled and they froze again, Bellamy’s hands automatically rushing to Clarke’s sides to protect her from even more guests.

 

“Open up, we know you’re in there!”

 

She jerked her head up so fast to look at him and then he got it.

 

“It’s Murphy.”

 

Clarke swore under her breath, untangling herself from him and muttering something about senile husbands all the way to the door. Before she opened it, she whirled around to face him with a positively murderous glare. “Fuck being social. Fuck our friends.”

 

Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door.

 

Murphy was standing side by side with Jasper, Santa hats perched on top of both of their heads.

 

“Merry Christmas,” he groaned. “Where’s the booze?”

 

“Good to see you, too, Murphy,” Bellamy teased, trying for nonchalance when he was, in all honesty, attaining epic levels of panic. “In the living room.”

 

Jasper wrapped both of them in a hug - the guy just didn’t believe in half-assing hugs. Instead, he made sure that people felt loved by nearly breaking their ribs.

 

“I’m so glad to see you two!” His ears twitched when he heard Raven shouting “Bullshit, fucker!” and his face lit up. “Is that Raven I hear? Is she here? Is Wells here?”

 

“Everyone is here,” Clarke grunted. “Everyone and their mothers.”

 

Jasper clapped her on the back, throwing his coat to the side and exclaiming, “Awesome!”

 

Maya and Emori, Jasper and Murphy’s girlfriends respectively, were somewhat better, although Maya looked like she’d had one beer too many.

 

“Great to see you Clarke, really great.” With that, she patted her head, her eyes widening. “So much fluff. Nice fluff, good fluff.”

 

Emori chuckled next to her, shaking hands with Bellamy. He still had trouble understanding how someone so grounded could date John Murphy, of all people. And then he remembered the Great Darts Incident of 2014 where she threatened to poke someone’s eye out and yeah, it made sense.

 

“Sorry about Maya. We pregamed,” she explained, pecking Clarke’s cheek.

 

“You always pregame.”

 

“Because we’re good at it,” she grinned, waving at them before following Maya and the rest of the group into the living room.

 

There was a second of loaded silence between Clarke and Bellamy and then the floodgates opened.

 

He knew it was bad by how calm Clarke seemed. She asked in a monotone, “How many people are there in this house?”

 

“Fuck if I know. Too many?”

  
“Nineteen. There are nineteen people in this house, to be exact, and an evil cat.”

 

“When did we even invite them?” He asked. It wasn’t that he didn’t love his friends. He loved seeing his friends, hanging out with his friends and having his friends over for dinner. But there were just so many fucking people.

 

“Tree decorating, Bell. It’s been tradition forever. But I guess it totally slipped my mind that I called them to let them know it was still on. That must have been before our house became Bilbo’s hobbit hole when Gandalf and all the dwarfs showed up,” Clarke explained, whisper shouting.

 

“And we can’t like, kick them out or something?” Bellamy asked with a faint chuckle.

 

“It's Christmas Bell, have a heart.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, so -”

 

He was interrupted in the middle of his sentence by a loud bang in the living room.

 

“Fuck,” Clarke hissed, nearly stumbling into the wall as she rounded the corner to see what was going on, with Bellamy hot on her heels.

  
And damn, didn’t she have something to see.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The spirit of christmas is represented by curtain poles, lights, and shitty fold out couches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so as my laptop decided to be terrible, I had to post this on mobile? Which means it will be a while until the chapter is available on Tumblr as well, but for now I'll live with what I can get. Enjoy the chapter though!

Raven was sitting on the floor in rubble that used to be their curtain pole and coffee table, rubbing her head and letting loose a string of profanities that had Lincoln covering his kids’ ears and Eggbert Cornelius meowed in Thelonious’ arms, looking too smug for a cat.

They’ve made a lot of mistakes this season but the worst one was not chaining the cat to some pipes in the ceiling and keeping it hostage for the rest of the holidays. For the sake of everyone’s inner peace of mind and bodily integrity. 

“Fuck that cat!” Raven shouted, pointing an accusing finger at the personification of evil lounging on the couch. 

Thelonious narrowed his eyes at her after Eggbert let out a particularly high-pitched wail that made Clarke wince. “Now look what you’ve done! He’s sad! Do you want him to be sad, Raven?”

“Hell yeah! I want him to know how this feels!”

“All of this because of a cat?” Vera asked, seeming cheerful albeit worried. It was Vera Kane, Clarke didn’t try to make sense of any of the woman’s expressions. “Oh, dear. He can’t be that bad.”

And with that, she took out another lint-covered butterscotch and offered it to the cat. Much to surprise of everyone in the room, he took it and proceeded to purr happily.

“What is that cat?” Maya asked under her breath next to Clarke and the latter shrugged, unsure herself. 

“He may be the devil, he may be just vicious. I don’t think we’ll ever find out.”

But Raven wasn’t sold on Eggbert’s sudden cuteness and she whirled around to face Wells as Clarke and Bellamy inspected the damage to their furniture. The curtain pole was broken in half - God knows how - and the coffee table was no better. 

“We’ve got a spare in the basement,” Bellamy told her, placing a comforting hand to the small of her back as she felt her eyebrows furrow. “But the curtain pole - “

“It can’t be helped.” She let out a long and weary sigh, torn between loving that everyone’s there for Christmas and hating how stressful it was. Obviously, the baby was going to be born in a weird family and it would just have to come to terms with it like the rest of them did.

Making a decision, Clarke clapped her hands and effectively stopped the debate on whether the cat is also a houseguest or it could be chased away. “Road trip!”

Raven perked up at that and Clarke tugged her closer. “Also, Wells. I feel like we need you for this. It’s three days until Christmas and you’re diplomatic.”

Wells nodded solemnly, possibly feeling the real weight of his duty. Raven and Clarke couldn’t be trusted to go into that Christmas-induced shopping mess that seemed to overtake every mall a couple of days before the holiday. It wasn’t a single occurrence that they got into a fight with someone. 

“Good. Team A, with me. Team B,” she pointed at Bellamy, Maya and her mom, “hold down the fort. Good luck.”

With that, she grabbed the car keys, her coat and literally ran outside before she could be stopped. Wells and Raven filed into her car, packed with presents she couldn’t keep in the house anymore and she had to smack Raven to stop her from opening the present meant for her.

“No presents until Christmas!”

“But, Clarke,” she whined, eyes wide and pleading. “Please!”

“No presents until Christmas,” Clarke repeated, her voice strict and unyielding. Raven backed off with a pout, crossing her arms and staring through the window like a toddler.

She might have been concussed but that was the last thing Clarke needed this holiday season. If it was her time, Clarke would just make sure she had a lovely funeral.

The drive to the nearest mall wasn’t long but the search for the curtain pole continued for hours. It was “I’m sorry, we don’t have curtain poles” in one shop, “Terribly sorry, we just sold the last one” in the second, “No, no curtain poles - but we’ve got stripper ones” in the third and the fourth one didn’t have the right length.

All in all, Clarke and Raven flopped on the bench angry and pissed off because people wouldn’t stop pushing around, and Wells at least had the decency to look sympathetic. It was his father’s cat that broke the pole, after all.

“I hate this,” Raven groaned, stretching her legs out and then withdrawing them after someone nearly tripped. “What is with all these people?” Her voice became louder as she shouted, “Y’all need to go home!”

Clarke elbowed her in the ribs. “Shut up!”

“Are you seriously trying to tell me you’re not overheated, hungry and desperate?”

“Raven - “

“No, come on,” she stabbed Clarke into her side with that long and pointy finger of hers. “Let it go, Clarke. Let it gooo!”

And as if that was all it took, Clarke’s true emotions came out in a rush of words, “Alright. I’m tired, I am fucking dying in this sweater, I can’t find the fucking curtain pole which your dad’s fucking devil cat killed,” she pointed at Wells, Raven grinning at her side, “I have spent three hours trying to find it and I am ready to deck a bitch!”

Raven clapped her on the back, standing up and announcing victoriously, “Hell yeah! Let’s go deck a bitch with a curtain pole!”

No “bitches” were decked with a curtain pole although it came pretty close to that. They were just in a store that seemed to have a whole variety of them (that meant it had two curtain poles: white and metallic, and cheap imitation of wood) and Wells had proudly set down the white, metallic one in their cart, when a mean-looking man pushed in front of them. The line, indeed, did span all the way to the back of the store.

“Excuse me,” Clarke hissed. The man turned around, fake-surprised. 

“Yes?”

“You just skipped the line,” she explained, calmly and rationally because she is an adult who is not going to get into a fight in the middle of furniture store.

And then the slimeball said, “I’m Cage Wallace. My dad owns this place.” and Clarke did not have a single fuck to give about his dad because her time had finally come to fight someone with a curtain pole.

She threw her coat at Raven and announced, “I’m going to deck a bitch with a curtain pole!”

Raven cheered and Clarke was just about to lift the pole from the cart when Wells stopped her, pleading, “Clarke, no.”  
The slimeball looked on, a smug, disgusting smile splitting his face in half and Clarke whirled around to face Wells. “I don’t give a shit who his dad is, he cut the line and I will fuck him up!”

“Think of the curtain pole,” Wells begged. “Please, think of the curtain pole.”

Clarke repeated the mantra in her head, think of the curtain pole, think of the curtain pole, but it was Raven who finally broke down, took the curtain pole and smacked the guy on his shoulder.

It wasn’t long before the mall security took her away but she was smiling so happily and Clarke’s heart swelled with affection as Wells waved at his girlfriend, tears of pure pride in the corners of his eyes.

“She’s the woman of my life,” Wells said at last. “I’m marrying that girl.”

Clarke rested her head on his shoulder, sighing. “Pity I’m married. I’m in love with her now.”

They returned home singing “We Are the Champions” at the top of their lungs and carrying the curtain pole as if it were an offering to the gods or something equally weird. But that pole was a metaphor, Wells explained when Miller asked them what the fuck were they doing.

“It’s a metaphor for succeeding despite adversity. It’s Harry Potter defeating Voldemort, Frodo Baggins defeating Sauron and Raven Reyes hitting Cage Wallace with a curtain pole.”

“It’s everything, Miller,” Clarke nodded. “It’s the spirit of Christmas.”

Nathan Miller took one good, long look at them and declared, “You’re all fucking insane.”

But they weren’t, they really weren’t. They were on top of the world, they were victorious and they knew it as they chanted Queen’s greatest hits on their way to the living room.

Only to see Eggbert Cornelius lounging in Bellamy’s lap, Clarke’s husband looking scared to death as the cat purred happily.

The three froze in their tracks, Clarke’s words, “The quest was successful” only half-spoken and she knew then that she loved Bellamy Blake but there was a line that no one could cross and now, sadly, she’d have to divorce him.

“You are consorting with the enemy,” she whisper-shouted, careful not to disturb the cat. “How could you?”

“Clarke, this isn’t what it looks like!”

“Bellamy Blake tell me you aren't fucking cuddling the demon cat. The one that just busted our curtain rod and sent us on a wild goose chase? The same cat that forced Raven to deck a bitch so we could come home to deck the halls?” Clarke accused, flailing her arms around wildly. 

“He just climbed up here and I’ve been too scared to move him! I swear!” Bellamy defended with his hands up in surrender. 

“Just get your ass up somehow. We've got decorating to do, and a curtain to hang. Unless you want the neighbors to get a front row seat to a live screening of our first sex tape. You know, since we were exiled to the couch and everything-”

She was only half kidding. 

Bellamy then scrambled up, careful to avoid a now furious Eggbert Cornelius who was hissing and scratching at basically anything could reach. 

“I'll make this house into the most spectacular winter wonderland your eyes have ever seen. It'll be visible from space. No bulb unlit, no plastic candy cane out of place. Need a creepy blow mold Frosty? I'm your guy,” He rambled, standing up straight and giving her a rather serious speech. 

“If you think you're putting that hideous snowman anywhere near our house I will literally file for a divorce,” She warned, trying her best not to chuckle. 

“Oh don't worry, I fucking hate that horrible thing.” 

He kissed her firmly on the mouth before marching off to recruit help with the lights. As much as he would hate to admit it, he was kinda worried he might fall and break his ass again without a little assistance. 

Lincoln, Octavia, Miller, Monty, Jasper, Murphy, Raven and Kane joined him outside to help with putting up all the lights and thinks, sticking out the chilly air of the afternoon. 

Everyone else, excluding Thelonious, who went to bathe the cat (rest his soul) stayed inside with Clarke to tackle the tree. 

Bellamy and Clarke had accumulated so many christmas ornaments over their years of knowing each other. They were sentimental okay? There was a large plastic storage bin practically overflowing with baubles and pins of all shapes and sizes. And then there was another whole bag filled with lights and tinsel. 

“Do you think you two can do a really important job for me?” Clarke asked, leaning down to the twins, who were amusedly ogling at all of the pretty shiny things in the box. 

They looked up at her expectantly, sitting back on their heels in front of the box. 

“Can you untangle all the ornament hooks for me?” 

“But won't we get poked a bunch?” Petra asked, tugging at the itchy collar of her sweater. 

“They're not that kind of hooks sweetheart,” Aurora assured her, patting her granddaughter on the head. “They're more like paper clips.” 

“Here,” Maya offered, squatting to sit beside the pair. “Me and Jas can help you.” She motioned for Jasper to join them. 

“Aurora, Vera, do you think you can help me untangle all these lights?” Abby asked, reaching into the bag and pulling out two large clumps of multicolored bulbs. 

“Do you want me to find some christmas music on one of the music channels?” Wells offered, gesturing towards the tv. 

“Yeah that would be great,” Clarke smiled, turned back to her task of fluffing out the tree branches and picking away dead looking needles. 

Emori helped her get the lights on after The Mom Squad got them all untangled. And finally the tree was ready for ornaments. 

Clarke nearly cried remembering her and Bellamy’s first official christmas as a couple. When she had finally moved into his apartment with him. That was the year neither of them had any christmas ornaments at all. So they decorated a thrift store artificial tree that was missing more than a few branches with things they had around the house. 

She smiled fondly when she stumbled the five year old Colgate toothbrush that was still in its package. And the hospital band from when Bellamy had a terrible case of food poisoning from eating one too many hot wings at a competitive eating event he and Miller had entered one year. Even the invitation (which was fashioned out of a small cheap plastic rattle) to the twins babyshower that read: “It's a girl? It's a boy? It's twins!” 

That was what she loved about their christmases. They were never traditional, they always found a way to make it their own. It was always something to be remembered for years to come. 

Clarke was feeling ridiculously nostalgic, and was nearly bringing her to tears. 

Maybe next year they would hang the curtain rod on the tree as a sentimental souvenir of this extremely memorable holiday season. 

Meanwhile, outside in Bellamy’s territory, things were a little less touchy feely and emotional but a little more slippy fally and regretful. 

No, Bellamy had not broken his ass again like Miller had been so confident in predicting. He had however accidentally knocked the ladder down, and had to cling to the gutter for dear life until Lincoln and Kane got it back up against the house and Bellamy was able to stop the free dangling of his feet. It gave Miller something else to mock him over for years, but he was just grateful he didn't actually plummet to his doom. 

After a few hours of wrestling with the lights, and a particularly interesting dispute between Raven and the staple gun, Octavia and Lincoln sward fighting with the plastic candy canes, and Monty and Miller getting distracted to make snow angels, the house was finally looking like an official page of Better Homes and gardens christmas edition. 

Well, maybe not that extreme. But Bellamy was pretty damn proud of their work. So proud, that he dragged everyone out in the yard to admire it. 

“Well, I hope nobody I know drives by and sees me standing in the yard, staring at the house in my pajamas,” Clarke joked, leaning into Bellamy’s side. “It's beautiful, Bell.” 

“Merry christmas, Princess,” Bellamy smiled, leaning down to give her nose a kiss. 

“You really did do a wonderful job,” Abby commented, patting her son-in-law on the back. 

“We helped!” Murphy chuckled, raising his hand. 

“But Bellamy conceptualized the whole affair,” Kane pointed out, shooting Bellamy a fatherly smirk that literally made him want to burst into tears because he really loved being a part of this great big family. 

It was starting to get a little late. So Murphy, Emori, Jasper and Maya made their way back to their loft with a promise to come back and join in for christmas dinner, with an additional promise to supply an extra casserole and maybe a pie. 

After everyone fended for themselves dinner-wise, it was deemed bedtime at the Griffin-Blake holiday sleepover extravaganza. 

Lincoln, Octavia, Aurora and the kids were all squashed in the soon to be baby’s room. (with two air mattresses for Lincoln and the kids. Aurora and O shared the bed. 

Abby, Vera, and Kane occupied the guest bedroom, which had two beds anyway. Monty and Miller now joined them on yet another air mattress. 

And finally, Wells, Raven, Thelonius and Eggbert Cornelius were squatting in Clarke and Bellamy’s room. With Thelonius on an air mattress and Raven and Wells in their amazingly comfortable California King. 

God how Clarke wished she wasn't so fucking hospitable. 

She kind of didn't mind that she and Bellamy had gotten banished to the living room. Because to be totally honest, it was downstairs, while all the bedrooms were upstairs. And she missed her husband and it would have kind of been nice to bang him, logically speaking. 

But as excited as he had appeared to be at this prospect earlier, he was kind of exhausted from being up on the roof so long. So they only made out lazily halfway through Home Alone before he confessed that he was ready to hit the hay. 

Clarke loved getting furniture from consignment shops. There were a lot of really cool pieces there. Like this super awesome vintage fold out couch they were so luckily getting to lounge on this evening. 

Don't get her wrong, as a couch, it was comfortable. And it was adorable, and convenient in the event of having a housefull of guests. But it was the most uncomfortable bed she’d ever have the displeasure to attempt to sleep on in her life. 

Bellamy was already starting to doze off, but she was trying really really hard not to toss and turn. Because A) the wire frame under the cushioning squeaked like a dying animal and she didn't want to wake him. And B) moving only made her discomfort worsen. 

She laid there, staring a hole into the ceiling until she could barely stand it, driving her elbow down hard into the “bed” below her, in order to turn herself over with a great amount of force. She flopped down onto her stomach next to Bellamy who promptly groaned. 

“Oh shit, Clarke,” he practically shouted. “You scared the hell out of me.” 

“I'm sorry babe, this thing is just doing a number on my back right now. Why did we ever agree to this?” She whined, burying her face into his plain white t-shirt. 

“Because we love our friends enough to not wish this kind of suffering upon them.” 

“But now we have to bear it, they don't,” Clarke huffed. “I think we deserve to sleep under 2000 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets on a mattress made of swan down filled cushions. With silk pillows. And its heated. With a massage function.”

“Is it bad that your description of this fantasy bed is kinda turning me on?” 

“Shut the fuck up,” she chuckled, playfully punching him in the chest. 

“I would so bang you in a bed like that.” 

She only laughed. 

“You think I'm joking but I’m literally so serious. I'm adding it to my bucket list tomorrow.” 

“You're such a damn idiot, I love you,” she smiled, leaning over to kiss him sweetly. 

He deepened the kiss, which she welcomed happily, looping her hands around the back of his neck. 

But then he made a fatal mistake. He flipped them over pretty violently, and Clarke had already delivered a pretty lethal blow to the frame. And the next thing they knew, they were crashing down.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A santa suit can solve almost anything, apparently.

“Fuck, Bellamy!” Clarke yelled loudly without thinking as they tumbled down into the rubble of what used to be their couch but was now a very broken remnant of what once was. 

 

“Shit,” Bellamy cursed just as loudly when he became fully aware of their situation. 

 

And the situation was basically the worst. The couch, in tradition of the curtain rod and the coffee table, sort of broke in half, leaving Bellamy and Clarke’s asses in the crevice between one part and the other, legs sticking out.

 

It would’ve been funny were it not for the fact that this was the only place they could sleep. And to make matters worse, Eggbert Cornelius decided to make an appearance, jumping into the rubble and scratching his way out to the other side.

 

“Fucking cat!” Clarke hissed, flailing to get the devilish thing away from her, only for Eggbert to jump on Bellamy’s face and dig his claws into the side of his head. 

 

As Clarke and Bellamy joined their efforts in trying to get themselves rid of Eggbert, the couch continued falling apart, arm panel crashing to the floor and the back hitting Clarke on its way down. 

 

When they were at their lowest, Bellamy’s face covered in scratches and Clarke looking broken and done with life under the couch’s back, they heard Thelonious’ voice. 

 

“Oh-oh, looks like the newlyweds are having too much fun! Keep it down, you two!” 

“We are dying here!” Bellamy shouted at him, his muscles straining as he tried not to disturb Eggbert who had curled up against his side. “Send help!”

 

“Then you’re not doing it right!” 

 

Clarke let out a long-suffering groan, trying to get herself up and then flopping back down on the floor. “I give up. I’ll admit defeat. Just get me a room in a nice hotel, book us a massage and to hell with this.”

 

“You know,” Bellamy started, snaking his hand past Eggbert and finding Clarke’s in the darkness and in the rubble. Somehow, he managed to get a hold of it and squeezed it. “I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but - maybe this is it. Maybe this is how we die.”

 

“You really think this is the end?” she asked, the only light in the room what little filtered through the curtains and her eyes. 

 

Bellamy was just about to reply God knows what - he sure didn’t know - when a voice came from the doorway and he snapped his head. 

 

Octavia was standing on the entrance to the living room, staring at them like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Oh my God, you are actually dying. We thought you were -”

 

“On this couch?” Clarke scoffed. “Yeah, this happened when Bellamy tried to kiss me.”

 

“Lincoln!” Octavia shouted. “Lincoln, you’ve gotta come see this! They broke the couch!”

 

The upper floor of their house seemed to erupt in chatter as everyone started getting out of their beds and Bellamy groaned, throwing his head back and remembering that there is no  _ back _ anymore. 

 

Octavia was cackling and Bellamy snapped, “Aren’t you going to help us?”

 

“You’re kidding, right? I need someone to take a photo of this. I’ll hang it above my fireplace and laugh at you every single day.”

 

The second to the scene was Raven and if Octavia’s shouting hadn’t already woken the whole house up, it was Raven’s laughter that sealed the deal. She doubled over, writhing next to Octavia and finally, clapping like a vicious seal.

 

“This is horrible and I regret everything,” Clarke grumbled.

 

Now, Bellamy was a relatively smart guy. Had a degree in history, a good teaching job, an awesome human who agreed to marry him, but there was one thing he always lacked - self-control.

 

He knew Clarke would hate him forever but he had to. He just  _ had to _ . 

 

“This is horrible and I regret everything, the title of our sex-tape.”

 

There was a moment of loaded silence between him, Clarke and the rest of the room (which now included most of their bedheaded, bemused family). If there were any crickets to be found and if Eggbert wouldn’t devour them, they would definitely be heard now.

 

And then Clarke giggled as everyone else stared in shock. Bellamy’s wife, the light of his life, his sun, his moon, his satellites -  _ giggled _ . 

 

“See,” she started, voice dripping with laughter, “I’m laughing right now but I’d be punching you if I could get up.”

 

“I’ll help,” Raven said, taking a step forward. “I wanna see Blake cry.”

 

Bellamy blinked at her, comfortable in his own bathrobe. “What did I ever do to you?”

 

“Nothing, I’m just very pro-violence at Christmas time. The songs are really doing it for me.”

“Well, I guess all four of us could fit in your bed if we really tried,  since it’s fucking giant and everything. You’d have to promise not to bang though because I’m really not about that life,” Wells pointed out, giving an amused shrug.  

 

“Have you ever walked in on them before? It’s disgusting,” Octavia grumbled. “I didn’t even know you could bend that way until that one time in-”

 

“Octavia our parents are in here please kindly shut the fuck up,” Clarke grumbled, covering her face with her palm. “They already know too much.” 

 

“Seriously though, can someone get us out of here?” Bellamy pleaded with a sigh of defeat. 

 

Only after snapping several pictures of their shame to show to post all over social media later did their friends and family help them out of their entanglement with the couch. 

 

The bed was only a little cramped, and it kind of reminded Clarke of their high school days after a party, and everyone just piled into pallets on Clarke’s livingroom floor and cuddled and watched movies. God she loved her friends. 

It was Wells, Raven, Clarke and then Bellamy. It was a stretch, but somehow they all managed to fit. It kind of worked because Clarke usually ended up halfway on top of him by the time morning rolled around anyway, so she assumed they would have plenty of room. 

 

But then she remembered that Wells snored. Like really loudly. 

 

“Psst, Raven,” She mumbled, nudging her friend after about twenty-five minutes of listening to the soundtrack to a documentary about the sounds dying hippos make. “Raven wake up.”

 

“Clarke, what the fuck?” Raven grumbled, squinting at the blonde. “Why are you still awake?” 

 

“How were you asleep?” Clarke asked with a real concern for Raven’s ability to actually hear. If she couldn’t hear Wells’ pig imitations, then she wasn’t sure she could be trusted to do much hearing at all. “It’s like sleeping next to a vacuum cleaner for fucks sake.” 

 

“I’ve lived with him for two years, you get used to it,” Raven chuckled, sleepily, her eyes drooping back closed. 

 

“Wait!” Clarke whisper shouted, shaking her friend’s shoulder again. 

 

“What?” Raven grunted, not opening her eyes. 

 

“Come downstairs with me to get sleeping pills?” the blonde pleaded, giving her best puppy eyes. Raven sighed, before carefully maneuvering herself out from under the blankets and carefully extracting herself from the bed, only for Clarke to follow after her, stirring Bellamy back into consciousness when she bumped him. He was a pretty light sleeper, though she’d expected him to be a little less restless after the week they’d been having. 

 

“Clarke?” He mumbled sleepily, rubbing his eyes and glancing at her where she was now standing next to Raven at the foot of the bed. “Where are you running off to?” 

 

“Sir snores a lot over here is keeping me up, so I’m gonna go take some meds. I’ll be right back, don’t get your panties in a twist.” 

 

They quietly snuck downstairs and into the kitchen, where Raven pulled out the milk and poured them each a tall glass while Clarke fished around the medicine cabinet for some harmless sleeping pills her doctor had already given her the okay to take. 

 

Clarke was then hit with the sudden realization that she had not told anyone outside of Octavia about the baby yet, and she really really wanted to tell Raven. And now, in the privacy of her own kitchen when everyone else in the house was asleep, seemed like the perfect time to give her the news. 

 

“I’ve been meaning to ask you how everything's going with the wedding planning,” Clarke began, approaching a new topic so she could throw Raven off to try and make the surprise a bigger deal. 

 

“Oh, everything’s pretty standard. I’d never really pictured myself as a bridezilla, and it turns out that I’m totally not. Wells is the one who freaks out about stuff. But not to the point where it’s annoying, you know? It’s actually kind of adorable,” Raven told her with an endearing smile on her lips. “How are you and Bellamy doing? Everything went okay with the move and everything right?” 

 

“I actually have some news,” Clarke supplied, trying to hold back her grin. She was failing. 

 

“Oh shit wait don’t tell me,” Raven said, covering her mouth. “You are totally pregnant. I knew it! I fucking called it. Wells owes me twenty five bucks.” 

 

“No way, you can’t just fucking guess that easily!” Clarke exclaimed half-heartedly. “That’s totally cheating.” 

 

“Does Bellamy know?” Raven asked, suddenly serious. 

 

“Do you really believe he wouldn’t be rambling about it 24/7 if he did?” Clarke smiled, just picturing the beaming ray of joy and happiness Bellamy would turn into when she finally told him the good news. “I’ve been planning on telling him for christmas. It made shopping for him so much easier. Octavia suggested I just put a bow around my stomach.” 

 

“That’s because Octavia is a god damned genius. A real christmas miracle worker,” Raven said, amused.

 

         “She’s the hero we need, but not the one we deserve,” Clarke agreed solemnly, despite the fact that Octavia mostly just laughed at them these days. When Clarke would protest, evoking numerous memories of her sister-in-law saving the Christmas dinner last minute, Octavia just shrugged, explaining that she’s got kids now.

 

Not that Clarke had any idea what relevance it bore, but it was what it was. 

 

“I call dibs on naming the kid,” Raven said as they returned to the room. Their guys were

sound asleep, Wells still snoring. 

 

      Clarke elbowed her in the ribs, motioning to keep quiet. “You want him to hear you?” 

 

      “Nope, I want the kid to have a normal name. I owe it to them, as their favorite aunt Raven.”

 

      Clarke chuckled, settling next to Bellamy in the bed and making enough room for Raven to join her. It felt as if they were teenagers again, whispering in the dark at a sleepover party. “I think you’re gonna have a pretty big competition.”

 

     “Yeah, but I’m awesome.”

 

     The sleeping pills worked miracles, Clarke realized when her eyelids started closing of their own accord, and even though she threw out her back in the couch fiasco, it wasn’t all bad. It was Christmas and they were all in misery.

  
  


     Bellamy woke up in a tangle of limbs the next morning. Clarke’s hair had somehow ended up in his mouth, her limbs splayed across him and for whatever reason, Wells’ hand was underneath his head and Raven’s leg was thrown across his.

 

     All in all, they were a human jigsaw puzzle he gave up on trying to untangle himself from. Instead, he gently shook Clarke until she batted her eyelids open, her voice deep with sleep as she spoke, “No.”

 

     Bellamy frowned at her, using his only free limb - his right hand - to move away a curl falling into her eyes. “No to what?”

 

     “No to everything.”

 

     He chuckled, kissing the tip of her nose as she petulantly stabbed her chin right in the middle of his chest. “Sounds like a plan. Except - it’s Christmas Eve. There’s bound to be a catastrophe or two we’ll need to resolve.”

 

“Good thing I don’t give a shit,” she chirped, prompting Raven to stir and shove at Bellamy as she stretched. 

 

“What the fuck are you two talking about?” Raven hissed, one brown eye glaring at them. People were supposed to look cute in the morning, but Raven just looked like a pissed off - well, Raven. 

 

“Life,” Bellamy said the same time Clarke said, “Death” and Raven glared at them viciously. 

 

“If you don’t shut up right about now, you’ll get to know what’s life after death like real soon.”

 

They managed to untangle themselves somehow and sneaked away downstairs, Clarke stumbling into Bellamy when they encountered a road obstacle.

 

“It’s the cat,” he whispered, carefully sidestepping it on its bed - the top stair, perfect for someone to trip. “I can’t wait until we get rid of it.”

 

“Fuck being polite. I say we drive it away as far as possible and tell Thelonious that it ran away.”

 

“It’d probably find its way back. Fucking Eggbert,” he swore, shooting a glare in the cat’s direction. To say that this holidays were going as planned would be a blatant lie but it still stopped ringing true when Bellamy and Clarke found themselves in the kitchen vacant of signs of human life. 

 

In one word, it was beautiful.

 

“Can it be?” Clarke whispered, her eyes widening at the clean counters (not yet smudged with jam, cereal and coffee), unused coffee maker and absolutely no sound in the air except for their breathing.

 

Bellamy plugged in the coffee maker, pressing the button with an obscene moan. She was giggling as she crowded him against the counter and whispered, “Should we continue where we left off last night?”

 

“Oh, Mrs. Griffin,” he smirked, “I had no idea your mind was so dirty.”

“Our kitchen, devoid of our family and friends, is a huge turn on for me.”

 

Bellamy snaked his arms around her waist, pulling her in until she was flush against his chest. The morning light’s brilliance illuminated her face, her hair held up by a stray pencil she used to wind it into a bun on top of her hair and this was it, this was all he wanted out of life.

 

Just as she deepened the kiss, pressing her hand against the nape of his neck and effectively taking his breath away, as she always does, they were rudely interrupted by a crash, followed by a string of profanities. 

 

They moved away from each other, exchanging worried glances and finally rushing towards the staircase where they could see Nathan Miller lying on his back with an expression that could be best described as hopeless.

 

Eggbert Cornelius, of course, stood at the top of the stairs.

 

“Nate?” Bellamy asked, approaching the man carefully. “Nate, you alive?” 

 

Miller groaned. “Was it the cat?”

 

After a second of loaded silence, Clarke stepped forward and decided that maybe it would be for the best that Miller knows who nearly killed him. After all, if anyone could help them in their plot to rid themselves of Eggbert, it was Nathan Miller.

 

“Eggbert Cornelius,” Clarke confirmed, a solemn tone creeping into her voice as the cat purred at the sound of its name. 

 

“Griffin, Blake - mark my words. I’m gonna kill the cat.”

  
  


Eggbert Cornelius was still alive in the afternoon, when the whole gang went out into the front yard to gasp at Bellamy’s marvellously put up lights and try to kill each other in a snowball fight of epic proportions.

 

It was a bad idea, Clarke knew, but that didn’t stop her from throwing the first snowball at Bellamy and then sending the second one Octavia’s way. They were a ridiculously competitive mish-mash of a family and it was practically a recipe for a disaster. 

 

But everything else was a disaster so she figured it couldn’t be that bad.

 

“Eat my snow, Jaha!” Raven shouted, jumping at her fiance and shoving a handful of snow down his coat. 

 

“But I love you!” Wells protested, always the one for low blows and emotional manipulation. No one actually believed in love when a snowball fight was concerned. 

 

Raven, thankfully, noticed it and grinned, “All is fair in war and snowball fights.” 

 

The twins were creating less of a mess than what was normal, building their snowman calmly by the porch. Their parents, however, were too busy rolling in the snow to notice what their children were doing. If Raven was absolutely brutal to everyone in a snowball fight, Octavia was even worse.

 

Lincoln had somehow managed to get a bruise from being struck with a snowball and now that Octavia had him in the deep snow, she kept poking at it and teasing, “Admit defeat! Admit defeat!” 

 

Aurora and Abby were sitting on the porch, surveying the scene with serene faces. Obviously, there was alcohol involved. 

 

“Isn’t it lovely, Abby?” Aurora asked, burrowing deeper into her scarf just as her daughter-in-law tackled her son with more force than what was necessary.

 

Abby hummed happily, taking a sip of her coffee laced with whiskey (Aurora had decided to share her private stash earlier today). “Absolutely beautiful.” Her gaze fell on Lincoln throwing his hands up in surrender as Octavia fed him snow. “Your daughter has such a nice marriage.”

 

“There, there, dear,” Aurora patted her on the shoulder. “Bellamy and Clarke get on well, too.”

 

Bellamy and Clarke who were currently chasing each other around the yard, hands and pockets full of snow. 

 

“I just want grandchildren, Aurora. It’s time.”

 

“And there is no time like the present,” Aurora nodded, the two falling into comfortable silence as raucous laughter echoed across the yard.

 

The twins were just done assembling their snowman, a three-ball masterpiece with Bellamy’s book on Julius Caesar doubling as a hat. Percy and Petra beamed, proud of their creation, and Clarke squeezed his hand to stop him from saying anything.

 

He did look as if he was about to cry, though. 

 

“It’s-” he stuttered, swallowing hard, “beautiful. Really beautiful, kids.” 

 

Clarke could only imagine what it’d be like when they had a kid. Raven talked about starting a betting pool on whether it’d be more like Clarke (perfectionist, stubborn as hell, annoying as fuck - Raven’s words, not Clarke’s) or like Bellamy (self-righteous, sarcastic little shit). 

 

Honestly, Clarke settled for the kid just being happy and healthy. They wouldn’t be bad parents, she realized as Bellamy took his niece and nephew by the hand and let them into the house, far from the crowd that had now erupted into punches and tripping each other into snowbanks. 

 

He was good with them, she noted absent-mindedly as she unbuttoned their coats and hung their scarves to dry. Petra tugged her brother and Bellamy along on their quest of finding snacks and Clarke soon followed.

 

All three of them were huddled in front of the fridge, rummaging through it and frowning.

 

“Jello?” Percy asked.

 

“No, no,” Bellamy hastened to move it out of his grasp. “That’s Vera’s, we’re not going to eat that.”

 

Petra raised her eyebrows. “Why not?”

 

“Because it’s old as b- jingle bells,” Bellamy explained, fetching a platter of cookies. “Eureka!”

 

Clarke interrupted their celebratory dance threatening to knock half the plates in the cupboard down with a knowing smile. “Alright, which one of you wants hot chocolate?”

 

Three hands shot up, matching expressions of enthusiasm on everyone’s face and they chimed in unison, “I do!”

 

Clarke set about preparing it, adding just enough marshmallows to satisfy even the worst sweet tooths. Coincidentally, she had three of them. 

 

Bellamy and the twins sat at the kitchen table eating cookies and talking about Santa. Clarke knew that there’d come a day when someone would have to tell them that Santa doesn’t exist but for now, she was happy to declare,

 

“Mrs. Claus is an emancipated woman and it was her choice to help Santa.”

 

The twins nodded, Petra pausing to ask, “Why isn’t Santa girl?”

 

Bellamy muttered “Patriarchy” under his breath and Clarke finished off their hot chocolate, setting three cups on the table in front of them. She explained, “Maybe she is. I’ve never seen Santa.”

 

“Really?” Percy gaped. 

 

“And you did?” Clarke smiled wryly, taking a seat next to him and running her fingers through his hair before grabbing a tinsel off of the counter. When she planted it on top of her head, he giggled.

 

“Yep!” he announced proudly. “We see him every year! He always comes to our house just before midnight, when mom and dad are sleeping and we sneak downstairs -”

 

Petra swatted her brother’s arm lightly, eyes very serious behind the rim of her hot chocolate mug. “Don’t tell them that!”

 

“We don’t mind,” Clarke smiled. “Tell me more. What’s Santa like?”

 

“Well, his favorite color is red, obviously.” Percy rolled his eyes and Bellamy chuckled. “He’s got a hundred elves on the North Pole and he really likes kids.”

 

“He told us we’re his favorite twins in the world,” Petra adds, nodding to herself. “Smartest and cutest.”

 

Percy’s tiny icing-stained fingers froze on their way to the cookie platter and his eyes widened as he seemed to realize something. 

 

“What is it, Perse?” Bellamy asked, his eyebrows knitting in confusion as his nephew stilled. “Everything okay?”

 

“What if Santa can’t find us this year?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Well, we’re not in our house and he’s not going to find us here, is he? How is he going to know we’re here?”

 

Bellamy shot Clarke a quick, panicked look and she leaned over the kitchen table, boring into Percy’s eyes. 

 

“Do you know why Santa is special?”

 

Percy shook his head. 

“Because he knows every wish of every child in the world. He knows that I wished for a red bike on my twelfth Christmas and he knows that Bellamy wished for a little sister on his fourth. And if he knows every wish you,” she bopped Percy’s nose and then Petra’s,”and you made - he’ll know where to find you.” 

 

“And if he doesn’t,” Bellamy added, taking a sip of his milk that left a moustache above his upper lip and made the three of them chuckle, “I think your auntie Raven can talk him into coming here.”

 

“Auntie Raven is awesome,” Petra agreed and Percy hummed amicably. “She told us we shouldn’t stick forks into outlets.”

 

That sure was surprising for Raven, Clarke thought. She was the one who encouraged everyone to poke around their electrical installations.

 

And then Petra continued, “She said it’s much better to go straight for the fuse box!”

 

Both Bellamy and Clarke got a pretty big laugh out of that one, expecting nothing less out of their fiery spirited friend. 

 

Once everyone came back inside from the great snow war of 2015, some victorious, and others wearing solemn expressions of defeat, the all piled into the floor of the living room with all the throw blankets they could find. Of which there were many, considering Clarke really had a problem with impulse buying fuzzy blankets. They were adorable and cozy, okay? She just couldn't stop herself. 

 

Clarke brewed up some more hot chocolate, enough to sustain the army in her living room floor, while Bellamy colored and continues to talk about Santa with the kids. 

 

She had always admired his storytelling skills. She remembers falling deeply in love with the way he sounded when explaining things. She could listen to it for ages. So her heart was pretty much melting when she heard him telling the twins the real origin story of Santa Claus.  About how Jolly ol’ Saint Nick brought toys to orphanages and helped those less fortunate. It was kind of adorable. She wondered if she’d be able to rope him into dressing up in the santa suit for them, just for kicks.   

 

After making a hot chocolate delivery to everyone in the living room, she pulled up a chair at the kitchen table and wrapped her arms around Bellamy’s middle. 

 

“Hey, Percy, Petra, Can I borrow uncle Bell for a minute?” She inquired, reaching over to steal one of their cookies. 

 

“Ew, are you gonna kiss him or something?” Percy asked, scrunching up his face into a look of disgust. 

 

“If I said yes, would you leave the table?” She asked, leaning further towards them. 

 

“I dunno, auntie Clarke, we’re feeling pretty stubborn today,” Petra added, crossing her arms with a defiant look in her eyes. 

 

“Alright then, suit yourselves,” Clarke shrugged, leaning in towards Bellamy, who was already grinning, and planting a kiss on his lips. 

 

“Ew!” The twins squealed, fleeing the scene quickly and running to their parents in the living room.

 

“I have a proposal for you,” Clarke stated, biting her lip and trying not to laugh. 

 

“Gee miss, I’m really very flattered, but I’m a married man,” Bellamy chuckled, raising his mug of hot chocolate to his lips. 

 

“I want you to dress up as Santa,” she blurted suddenly, a face splitting grin taking over her face. 

 

“You want me to what?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. “I know you’ve always been into some pretty weird stuff, but I didn’t know fat old guys with white beards was really your cup of tea, Clarke.” 

 

“Not for sex stuff, you dimwit, for the kids!” She exclaimed, smacking her husband on the shoulder. 

 

“Yeah, I totally knew that.” 

 

“So you’ll do it?” Clarke asked, squirming with glee at the idea of Bellamy in the adorable big red suit with one twin on each knee. “You really will?” She had resorted to climbing into his lap happily at this point. 

 

“Of course. Anything for the spirit of christmas,” he smiled joyfully, leaning up to kiss her soundly. “And this is totally winning me bedroom credit, right?” 

 

“Definitely. Saving christmas will win you all the bedroom points.” 

 

“One question though,” he said, pulling away from her with his hands still around her waist. She looked at him expectantly. “Where the hell are you going to find a santa suit on christmas eve?” 

Clarke facepalmed so hardcore that she thought her eyes would go all the way into the back of her head. 

 

“I’m recruiting help. And I’m going on another road trip. You won’t mind staying and manning the fort again will you?” She asked, pouting her lips. 

 

“I’ll count the moments until your return,” He smirked, kissing her shortly once more. 

 

Clarke then ran off in search of Monty and Miller. Monty, because he was ridiculously amazing at finding obscure shopping items, and Miller in case things got crazy with a store clerk. Miller knew those types of characters inside and out. He used to steal right from under their noses all the time in high school, and even though he’d turned his life around, he was still an expert on the behavior of retail salesmen. 

 

They came without question, feeling lucky to be able to get out of the house for a little while while everyone else took naps and watched christmas movies. 

 

“I’ll do absolutely anything if it means getting away from that fucking cat for a few hours,” Miller had chimed in after Monty had already agreed to going for the both of them when Clarke had asked. 

 

She knew this adventure was going to be horrendously similar to the curtain rod incident, but she was prepared for the worst. She was just really excited about this santa suit thing, and she would pretty much do anything to get her hands on one at this point. 

 

Monty had done his research in the car, and directed Clarke to a shady looking costume shop that kind of looked like it had potential to be a meth den. 

 

“Monty, if I die in here, I want you to make sure you find a way to get Bellamy in a santa suit, take a picture, and put that shit on my tombstone. Because it will, afterall, be my downfall.” 

 

Monty chuckled, nodding his head in agreement. 

 

“I think I can make that happen, if something were to actually go down in here.” 

 

Upon entry, they noticed that literally nobody was inside aside from one lady behind the counter, who was reading an out of date magazine and generally looked aggressively done with her job. 

 

“Um,” Miller started, stepping forward and pointlessly dinging the service bell to try and drag her attention away from her reading material. “We were wondering if you had any santa suits left?” 

 

“It’s christmas eve, do you really think I have the answer you want to that question?” She answered with a groan. 

 

“You really don’t have anything? Like anything at all?” 

 

“I have a slutty santa left over from Halloween, but something tells me that’s not what you’re here for.” 

 

Clarke let out an exasperated sigh, putting her fingers to her temples. This was fine. This was only the first place they had checked after all. There were still other options. 

 

“We won’t be needing that one, Ma’am,” Monty said, sliding an arm around Clarke’s shoulders and motioning for Miller to start heading towards the door. “Thank you, though.” 

 

And they made the walk of shame back to the van. 

 

“Where to next map boy?” Clarke asked, starting up the car so they could get some heat going. 

 

“Okay first of all, rude,” Monty pointed out, lightheartedly smacking the back of her head from his seat on the passenger side. “And second of all, we could always try walmart.” 

 

“You can never go wrong at wally world,” Miller sing-songed, with a tone that resembled sarcasm in his voice. 

 

“Don’t you dare down wally world, Nathan.” 

 

So they tried wally world, and the mall, and everywhere they could think to check. And they could not, for the life of them, find one single santa suit. For rent or for sale. 

 

Clarke would not admit defeat. They were sitting out on one of the benches in front of the strip mall, and suddenly, Miller stood to his feet. 

 

“Babe?” Monty asked, bewilderment in his tone. “Where you headed?” 

 

“Shh, don’t worry about it. I think I have a plan. But this particular plan revolves solely on neither of you knowing about the plan. Because if you knew, you wouldn’t let me go through with it.” 

 

“Nate you’re not making any god damned sense,” Clarke chimed in, looking just as confused as Monty did. 

 

“I will be back. And when I return, I will have a santa suit. That is a promise I intend to keep.” 

 

He gave Monty an overly dramatic kiss before parting ways with them. 

 

“He’s going to mug the Salvation Army Santa for his suit isn’t he?” Clarke asked once Miller was out of earshot. 

  
“Probably.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas is coming to a climax, and everything is falling apart around it. Will Clarke completely lose her shit before it's all over? Stay tuned to find out.

As it turns out, Miller did not  _ mug _ the charity Santa. He paid him a solid two hundred dollars cash to hand over the suit. And the money was going to charity. So everything turned out pretty great for everyone. Well, everyone except for the Salvation Army Santa, who was left with nothing but some long johns and a smile. 

 

Clarke was actually really proud of Miller. Monty and the holidays really brought out the best in him. 

 

“I kind of just think it’ll be funny to see Bellamy in this thing,” Miller had said, trying to pass it off as his only motivation for spending two hundred dollars on a santa suit. 

 

“Just admit you’re a huge softie,” Clarke cooed, glancing at him in the rearview on their way back home. 

 

“Only for me,” Monty beamed, causing Miller to blush in the back seat, tugging his beanie down to hide his face. 

 

The returned home, and Clarke snuck the costume inside and upstairs to her and Bellamy’s bedroom, where she stowed it away in the closet for safekeeping, only then to run back down stairs and inform Bellamy of the game plan. 

 

“How did operation SSS play out?” He asked, looking up at her from his place next to Wells on the still very broken couch. She gave him a questioning look. “Santa Suit Shopping,” He mouthed, since the kids were in the floor coloring. 

 

“That’s a story for another time,” She mumbled with a chuckle thrown in at the end. “I need to see you in the kitchen.”

 

She dragged him behind her, twirling around happily when they finally reached their destination. 

 

“I take it you got the suit. How did you manage to do that?” He asked, taking her by the hips to steady her dizzy figure.

“That isn’t important right now,” She smiled, her hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. “What’s important is that we have it. Beard and all. Because Miller is my saving grace, and Monty is so lucky to have him.” 

 

“Where is it?” 

 

“It’s in the bedroom. I locked it up in the closet for now so that demon of a cat couldn’t get to it. I was thinking you could go put it on after dinner and just do the whole Santa act for the twins. They’ll just love it.”  

 

“You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?” 

 

“Only because I’m going to take loads of pictures and post them everywhere for all to see,” She smiled, wrapping him up in the biggest hug. “And because I think you’ll look borderline ridiculous.” 

 

“Shut up,” he chuckled, touching his forehead to hers and smiling widely, planting a chaste kiss to her lips.

 

After super, Clarke dragged Bellamy to their room and insisted he put the suit on immediately. And he did so obediently, tucking a pillow or two into his waistband for effect and pulling on the cheap fake beard. 

 

“How do I look?” He asked with a jiggle of his faux gut. 

 

“Particularly jolly, babe,” She chuckled, kissing his cheek and smiling. “Let's go surprise the kids.”

 

“Ho ho ho! It's me Santa Claus!” Bellamy said, trying out his best old man impression. The twins weren't the only ones giggling. 

 

“You're not Santa!” Percy giggled, running up to his uncle. “Santa’s too busy finishing presents for tonight.” 

 

“Oh, you got me. I'm one of his special helpers!” Bellamy tried, looking over at Clarke for assistance. Acting wasn't really his forte, and neither was lying to his brilliant niece and nephew. 

 

“Don't be dumb, Perce, that’s uncle Bell!” Petra scorned, pointing at Bellamy. 

 

“Is not!” 

 

“Is too! I saw Aunty Clarke kiss him at the top of the stairs!” 

 

“You saw Aunty Clarke kissing Santa Claus, huh?” Lincoln asked with a small laugh, scooping his daughter up into his arms. She nodded. 

 

“It'll be our little secret,” Clarke winked at her niece. 

 

“Hey!” Bellamy protested, breaking character. 

 

“Ha! See! i told you Perse! That is Uncle Bell!” Petra exclaimed victoriously. 

 

“You don't think I make a convincing Santa?” Bellamy pouted, lowering his beard. 

 

“You're too grumpy to be Santa, Uncle Bell,” Percy commented. 

 

“Fair enough,” Bellamy shrugged. “Then I guess you don't want Santa to read you the night before christmas before you go to bed then, do you?” 

 

“I wanna hear a story!” the twins grumbled in unison, their pouts mirroring one anothers. 

 

“Okay, okay, fine, you've convinced me.”

 

They climbed into his lap, one on each side in the armchair, sporting a candy cane each. Octavia wasn't thrilled about them having sugar this late, but she let it slide, what with it being christmas and all. 

 

They sat quietly as their uncle read to them slow paced and animatedly, acting out the scenes of the story and using different voices. They adored it, and it was everything Clarke pictured and more. 

 

She and most everyone else (save the twins of course) had had plenty of Monty’s first batch of his famous eggnog, and we ready for bed before eleven. Petra and Percy had fallen asleep to Bellamy’s reading, and we're soon carried off to bed by Lincoln, who soon joined Octavia back in the living room to set up their “santa gifts”. Bellamy and Clarke helped with what they could, getting everyone's presents semi-organized under the tree, and then headed off to join Raven and Wells in bed. (Which felt admittedly a little weird to say, but what didn't feel weird at this point?) 

 

She dozed off against Bellany’s chest, feeling optimistic about the morning to follow. 

 

 Christmas morning reminded Clarke of what she loved the most about the holiday. Even though their house was packed to the rafters and Clarke managed to recognize every snore, it was still peaceful in a way that only Christmas can bring. 

 

Bellamy was tucked into her side, his head burrowed in the crook of her neck and Clarke smiled, finally feeling at peace after a week of what seemed like ninety per cent tension and ten per cent happiness.

 

“Merry Christmas, Bellamy,” she whispered, wrapping her arms and legs around him and pulling him even closer, if such a thing was even possible. The fact that Wells and Raven weren’t tangled with them could only be described as Christmas miracle and sue Clarke for wanting to just wake up next to her husband.

 

Really, even though they had their ups and their downs, she wouldn’t have changed anything. And today was the day when he’d find out that their little family would get an addition. 

 

Bellamy stirred, slowly coming to. While Clarke thrashed out of sleep most of the time, jerking herself awake, Bellamy was much slower, much sweeter. He wrinkled his nose, as if annoyed by the fact that he can’t sleep longer, and then smiled when he cracked one eye open.

 

No matter how many times they woke up together, Bellamy still looked as if he were surprised to see Clarke lay next to him. 

 

“Is it Christmas already?” he asked, pecking her jaw.

 

Clarke hummed happily, winding her fingers into his hair and playing with the curls at the nape of his neck. This was slow and this was what they needed for a very long time, even though there were three other people in the room next to them and possibly, an evil cat.

 

Still, they were together and at the end of the day, that’s all that ever mattered.

 

“Christmas morning, to be precise,” she grinned. 

 

Bellamy waggled his eyebrows at her, his lips curving into a crooked smile. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

 

“Probably,” she drawled. “But I don’t think you want to fuck everyone else awake.”

 

Bellamy cringed at the thought, moving away a bit. “Yeah, no thanks. I don’t need an audience.”

 

“So I’ve thought. But I think we can snag a couple of minutes for ourselves in the pantry.”

“Kinky, Princess. Really kinky.”

 

“Well,” Clarke shrugged, throwing away the covers and grabbing for Bellamy’s hand. “Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

  
  


Once their most basic needs, including sex, coffee and food - in that right order, had been satisfied, Bellamy left off to get their presents for everyone from the attic. As soon as he pulled the ladder down, Eggbert Cornelius made an appearance and he barely chased him off.

 

The cat liked him, Bellamy realized with a start and nearly hit his head on the rafters. 

 

But when he did manage to retrieve everything from the attic, including a very dusty cardboard Santa and a moldy snowman Clarke didn’t want him to use, practically everyone was awake. 

 

The bathrooms were full of people, simultaneously brushing their teeth and grinning because it was Christmas, and Clarke was at her wit’s end in the kitchen. 

 

“Bellamy,” she hissed as soon as she saw him enter and then her face fell. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing with that moldy thing?”

 

Bellamy cut a glance towards Frosty the Snowman, inflatable edition in case you wanted to use it in your pool during the summertime - really practical, and smiled at her innocently.

 

“Thought I’d show it to the kids.”

 

“The only thing that’s gonna be showed to the kids is what your face looks like when I bash it in with a candy cane!”

 

Raven cackled next to her, getting out a flask stuck in her brace and pouring some whiskey in her coffee. She clinked her mug against Clarke’s and said, “Merry Christmas.”

 

“You need alcohol this early?” Bellamy asked, feeling his eyes widen as Raven kept grinning and Clarke just looked pissed. Frosty didn’t deserve this much hate. 

 

“I heard your pantry-talk so, yeah,” she grumbled, “I kinda do.”

 

Clarke flushed next to her, scrambling to get to the oven for whatever reason that might be and Bellamy just shot Raven a glare. “Cute, Reyes.”

 

Raven shrugged, taking a sip of her whiskey-infused coffee (something Bellamy could use, too, if he was being honest). “I try.”

 

On the other side of the kitchen, Kane was just finishing wrapping the gifts as Abby glared at him. Figuring that they’ve both gotten the short end of the stick with the Griffin girls this morning, he decided to join them.

 

Mistake. 

 

Oh, what a glorious mistake he’d made.

 

“Bellamy,” Abby started, her voice low and seemingly calm, “what is that thing?”

 

“It’s -uh, it’s Frosty the Snowman,” he explained, blushing for a reason he couldn’t discern. All this time he’d been looking for Kane’s approval when Abby Griffin was as ready to tear him apart because of the inflatable thing as her daughter. 

 

“And where do you plan to put it, if you don’t mind me asking?”

 

Bellamy glanced at Kane who shook his head very slowly, a panicked look in his eyes. Then he tried, “In the trash?”

 

Abby nodded happily, returning to helping Marcus. “That’s what I thought.”

 

Well, if Frosty wasn’t destined to join them in their holiday celebration, what was the point of Christmas at all?

  
  


Two hours later, the whole gang assembled in the living room to open up the presents. Some of them were sitting on what was left of the couch, planks and cushions, while the others took their spots on the floor. The best seat, the one just by the Christmas tree, was occupied by Bellamy and Clarke. 

 

Incredibly - and it could only be described as a Christmas miracle - even Eggbert seemed content with sitting in Thelonious’ lap and not trying to ruin anything. It must’ve been quite a stretch for him and everyone silently appreciated it.

 

Well, everyone apart from Raven.

 

“I don’t trust the cat,” she announced, moving away to sit on the other side of the room, right by the tree. 

 

Wells’ voice was pleading and desperation was written clear across his face as he begged, “Raven, please, come back. Eggbert won’t hurt you.” 

 

“It’s Christmas,” Thelonious agreed, petting the cat in a manner similar to one of a supervillain. “And you would do well to remember his name is Eggbert Cornelius, Wells.”

 

“Dad, it’s a cat,” Wells sighed. “It’s a cat and everyone calls him Eggy.”

 

“What?!”

 

Abby was at Thelonious’ side in an instant, nearly toppling Monty over in her scramble to get to him. “What a lovely cat, Theo. I’m sure Eggy-” her eyes widened and she quickly corrected herself, “Eggbert Cornelius wouldn’t hurt a soul.”

 

As if to protest against Abby’s statement, Eggbert scratched her hand when she reached out to ruffle his fur and, offended, ran out of the room. 

 

Octavia managed to interrupt what was going to be an epic fight between Abby and Thelonious with a loud clap and a fake-happy smile splitting her face in half.

 

“Alright, presents!”

 

The twins weren’t the only ones who cheered and Clarke was glad that she remembered to get an old edition of Bulfinch’s Mythology for Bellamy because that definitely wasn’t the time to wrap a bow around her stomach and announce her pregnancy.

 

No, if she’d done that, she could kiss a peaceful Christmas goodbye. 

 

Instead, she watched Bellamy’s face break out in surprise after unwrapping his present, a smile lighting up his features as he raised her off the floor in a hug. 

 

He still looked a little incredulous after he’d twirled her around the room for good two minutes, and sputtered, “You - you actually got me Bulfinch’s -” he stopped himself to kiss her again and Clarke laughed into the kiss. Bellamy was like an overexcited kid and that was one of the many things she liked about him; the ability to bring back the joy in her, as well. 

 

Miller got them a matching set of aprons (“Because you’re such good cooks,” the jerk said with a smug smile on his face), Aurora’s present comprised of gift cards (Clarke secretly loved those - yeah, let her pick her own present) and Octavia grinned as Clarke tore through the wrapping paper to find a single, red bow and at least two feet of string. 

 

Bellamy frowned at the box, looking between Clarke and Octavia. “What?”

 

“It’s nothing,” Clarke assured him, feeling her cheeks burning up because woah, this was close. “Just a joke, that’s all.”

 

He didn’t look convinced but the twins nearly set the tree on fire - again - and that was enough to make them forget all about the bow. 

 

Clarke stashed it in her pocket, her fingers finding it whenever they couldn’t find her belly - still flat, would be swollen in a jiffy per her doctor, and it was a small comfort but a comfort nonetheless. 

 

When it came time for everyone to unwrap Marcus’ presents, the silence was almost deafening. Every single person in the room held a handmade knitted sweater, various colors but their initials on the front, along with Christmas symbols such as reindeers and Santas. 

 

Marcus looked proud of himself and Clarke’s mom patted his back while everyone else struggled to wrap their minds around the fact that Marcus Kane started knitting at some point in the past. 

 

“Marcus, really,” Clarke started, gulping, “this is - “

 

“Since when do you knit?” Aurora asked, suspicion making her look more like Bellamy than ever. 

 

“Last year. We took a class,” he nodded towards Abby and Clarke had to take a deep breath before she could imagine her mother with a knitting needle. “Do you like them?”

 

The living room erupted in various noises of agreement, Lincoln going as far as hugging Marcus with tears in his eyes but then again, Lincoln was pretty touchy-feely when you got to know him. 

 

The only one who had a problem with the sweaters was, of course, Thelonious. He stood up, his armchair creaking as he moved away, and announced, "I didn't get shot in the thigh to get an itchy wool elf sweater for Christmas!"

 

Wells pressed a hand to his face, begging his father, “Dad, just please stop.”

 

“I shan’t!” Thelonious said, raising his jaw petulantly as Eggbert appeared out of thin air and hissed in tune with his owner’s words. “It’s because of people like you, Marcus, that our youth has no backbone!”

 

“Dad,” Wells tried again, widening his eyes at Raven for support and sighing when he found none. “Dad, the sweaters have nothing to do with the current state of youth in the States.”

 

“Are you sure? Are you sure it isn’t because of sweaters like these that the youths itch for a fix?” 

 

When no one said anything, Thelonious continued, seeming content with himself. “Coincidence? I think not!”

 

Thankfully, when Thelonious started going on about the aliens and all the ways the government covered up the existence of Santa (“North Pole is real, people! Open your eyes and smell the candy canes!”), practically everyone had been evacuated out of the room.

 

Since Clarke had no idea how to stuff turkey and no one wanted to bother the elderly, Raven and Wells were on turkey duty. 

 

Wells volunteered, dragging Raven along with him and her smirk should’ve told Clarke everything she needed to know, but she was otherwise distracted.

 

“Can you or can’t you cook the fucking bird?” she snapped, keeping an eye out for Vera who started offering her moldy jelly to the kids. 

 

“Yeah, just give me oil and I’ll cook it real good,” Raven assured her and Clarke left it at that.

 

Two hours later, however, when the house was at its worst, Clarke knew that she had made a mistake but there was no turning back.

 

Clarke narrowly dodged the twins running up and down the stairs on her way from the bathroom (where she helped Monty avert a crisis, the man having accidentally burned a hole through his boyfriend’s beanie), sidestepped her mom who tried to start a conversation and by the time she reached the kitchen, she was pretty sure not even pigs flying could surprise her anymore. 

 

That’s precisely why she didn’t even flinch when Wells ran up to her, completely overtaken by panic.

 

“Clarke, please, help!”

 

Clarke took a deep breath before she beelined for the kitchen, enveloped in a thick gust of smoke. She could barely see Raven coughing and flapping an oven mitt about as smoke kept erupting out of the oven. 

 

The bird was, obviously, scorched.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “When in the hell would I have told Bellamy? Somewhere between getting you out of the mall jail, the cat exploding and coordinating sticking all the food in the snow?” Clarke scoffed. “Yeah, Bellamy, honey, we’re having a baby, now stick that turkey in the snow like you mean it!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting even closer to the ending, guys! Thank you for sticking with us!

Raven turned around when Wells ran up to her, opening the window by the oven, and she had a look of sheer terror on her face. “Clarke, I don’t - “

 

“Don’t worry,” Clarke assured Raven, mentally transporting herself to her happy place; a sandy beach with dolphins flopping about in the sea. It was calm, the wind was rustling her hair and Bellamy was arriving with margaritas. 

 

Happy place, she thought as she made her way towards the fire extinguisher mounted by the back door. 

 

Happy place, as she took it off and carried it to the kitchen.

 

Happy place, as Raven and Wells stared as she pulled the pin in the handle, aimed the nozzle at the oven and her friends, and finally - pressed the lever with all of her might. 

 

In a minute, the fire was out, Raven and Wells were covered in thick white foam and Clarke said, “I guess we’ll be having a white Christmas after all.”

 

With that, she dropped the fire extinguisher, thought of her happy place as she went into the living room and finally flopped down in the armchair. 

 

“Fuck my happy place.”

 

It took two hours to get rid of all the foam. Two whole hours. Raven and Wells did most of the work, as they were sort of the ones at fault, but everyone else pitched in. 

 

Bellamy took it upon himself, soon joined by Octavia and Lincoln, who just wanted to get out of the house for a moment, to go pick up a couple rotisserie chickens from the grocery store, because lord knows they wouldn't have time to get another turkey bought and cooked before dinner time. 

 

When they returned, Clarke and her mother threw themselves into a baking frenzy, with surprise help from Monty and Miller. Though Monty was mostly occupied getting his eggnog just  right. 

 

“Can we try some?” Percy asked, pulling himself up to eye level with the countertop. 

 

“I don't think so,” Monty said with a chuckle, giving the punchbowl a stir. 

 

“How come?” Petra asked, never far behind her brother. 

 

“Cause this drink is for big kids,” Miller explained, standing behind Monty at the counter and placing his hands on either side of him. 

 

“I'm a big kid!” Petra argued. “I'm three whole minutes older than percy!” 

 

“Big kids like me and Nathan. Big kids in their twenties,” Monty added, sprinkling a hint of nutmeg into the mixture before him. 

 

“It's TWENTY fifteen,” Percy argued with raised eyebrows. “So technically we are in our twenties.”

 

“Wow, you’re really convincing,” Miller chuckled, leaning down to the pair of kids. “Have you ever thought about being a politician?” 

 

“Momma and Auntie Raven say politics are for suckers and that we should stick it to the man instead,” Petra elaborated with an innocent tone of voice. 

 

Everyone chuckled at the exchange. 

 

The doorbell rang when Clarke scootched the sugar cookies she and the twins had constructed into the oven to bake. 

 

Bellamy ran to the door, and let in Maya, Jasper, Murphy, and Emori inside. 

 

They came bearing casserole and pie as promised. 

 

Alcohol, too. Sadly, Clarke could only look at it and smile wistfully. In the whole mayhem that was last minute preparations for the Christmas dinner, no one noticed she wasn’t drinking. In fact, her mother complimented her on making the right call, if they were trying for a baby.

 

“Mom,” Clarke groaned, instantly transported into her teens when her mom would lecture her about something and she’d groan. Nothing changed, except for the topics. 

 

Abby tried to reason, “All I’m saying, sweetie, is that you want your baby to be healthy, don’t you?”

 

“Are we still talking about my very much  _ hypothetical  _ baby?”

 

The words seemed strange and Clarke had to fight off the urge to press a hand to her lower belly, assuring the baby that she still loved them, even though she had to lie for their peace of mind.

 

Abby smiled, passing her the bag of sugar. “We are and I can’t wait to become a grandma.”

 

As much as it frightened her to admit it, Clarke really though that her mom might turn out to be a good grandma after all. She had her faults raising Clarke, of course, but then again - no one was perfect. And throughout all of their turmoils and mistakes, at least they loved each other. In their own, messy way.

 

So Clarke returned the smile to a woman with a couple of grey strands of hair in the sea of mousy brown, flour woven in the locks above her brow and she wrapped her hands around her mom because, despite everything, she was loved. 

 

Despite everything she’d been through, Clarke was very, very loved. 

 

Nothing seemed like a problem after that realization. Clarke watched her friends have fun, her family gossip each other good-naturedly, and her niece and nephew managed to get a hold of Eggbert Cornelius and were now spinning him around as the last batch of cookies was finished in the oven.

 

Lincoln and Octavia returned soon enough, and it was to a fully set table and everyone merry. The adults’ merriness stemmed from Monty’s eggnog and the liquor Murphy, Jasper, Maya and Emori brought (except for Clarke - her cheeks were pink because of the heat and because of the fact that Bellamy couldn’t stay away from her, always brushing her forehead with his lips in passing or pressing a supportive hand to the small of her back when she was a second from blowing up), and the kids seemed to enjoy Christmas, as well.

 

“We’re doing fine,” Bellamy whispered, incredulous, as they watched Petra and Percy play with their newly acquired toy train set, along with the railway they were assembling on the living room floor. “We’re actually doing just fine.”

 

Clarke nodded, pressing a quick peck to the skin of his neck and cuddling closer to him in a moment of quiet. “We are. Babe, we’re having a good family Christmas.”

 

Bellamy’s whole face lit up, enough light in it to illuminate the whole town and just as Clarke was getting ready to send the resolution of forgoing PDA in front of their family, another thing lit up too.

 

And it was the tree.

 

Well, it was the lights, emitting sparks and a loud crackling sound that rendered all of them speechless and unable to move as they watched the lights catch on fire.

 

“Someone get me the fire extinguisher!” Miller shouted, the first one to move and proceed to run around the tree in panic. “A blanket! Anything!”

 

Clarke was still in Bellamy’s lap, both of them frozen, when Aurora managed to procure a blanket and, with Miller’s help, throw it over the tree. 

 

And in the corner, there was Eggbert Cornelius, merrily chewing on the cord connecting the lights to the power outlet. 

 

“Clarke,” Bellamy breathed out as Eggbert’s front teeth dug into the last bit of wire with gusto. “Clarke, he’s gonna blow the fuse.”

 

But Clarke couldn’t move, too shocked by the imagine of their tree nearly catching fire, and she could only watch the reactions of the rest of the twenty people filling out their living room.

 

Raven seemed to notice the same thing as Bellamy, yelling, “He’s gonna blow the fuse!” and Thelonious sprang up from his seat on the couch, shrieking, “Save Eggy!”

 

But no one could save Eggy when he smirked at them and bit through the last wire. Explosion nearly burst Clarke’s eardrums as a lot of things happened at once - everyone jumped up from their seats, Petra and Percy recoiled towards safety - having been playing too close to the tree, and Eggbert Cornelius, the devilish cat, was ejected towards the ceiling.

 

Twas the night of Christmas and everything was quiet, except for Eggbert’s piercing wails and the sound of their living room window being smashed to bits.

 

After that, the whole house was enveloped in darkness and everyone fell silent. Marcus and Clarke’s mom bore matching shocked expressions, Raven looked a little smug and a little scared, Wells just seemed to cringe at everything related to his dad’s whims while Thelonious - 

 

Well, Thelonious was on the verge of tears and the sight of it surprised Clarke. What surprised her even more was that she found herself scrambling to get off of Bellamy’s lap and hand Thelonious Jaha a tissue.

 

“I’m so sorry, Thelonious,” she said, patting him on his back. 

 

“He was such a good cat! Always kind, always playful! He loved people, you know?” Thelonious whispered, looking at Clarke as if he actually believed that his cat was anything less than a nightmare.

 

She didn’t have the heart to say otherwise and so she just handed him tissue after tissue until Octavia’s voice cut through the thick layer of shock keeping everyone immobile. “I guess we’ll just have to light some candles, won’t we?”

 

Petra and Percy were enthusiastic enough to help their mom, whom Clarke shot a deeply grateful look - having never been this thankful for her sister-in-law (and there was a moment in which Octavia kicked some annoying guy’s ass when they were in college - Clarke was pretty thankful for that). 

 

Abby and Marcus took over comforting Thelonious and Clarke tugged Bellamy, Miller and Monty into the kitchen, now completely different in the darkness. None of the appliances worked, there would be hell to pay in rotten food tomorrow and she sighed, leaning against the counter and hitting her hip.

 

“Fuck!”

 

Bellamy was instantly at her side but Clarke didn’t have time to think about injuries. No, she had a Christmas dinner in darkness to plan. “I’m fine, I’m fine,” she brushed it off, turning her gaze towards Monty and Miller, looking vaguely unsure of what they’re even doing there.

 

“I need your help,” she said, staring them down with what Bellamy called her general-marching-into-war gaze. 

 

“Whatever you need, Clarke,” Miller said, serious as ever. 

 

Monty nodded next to his boyfriend. “We are so sorry that this happened.”

 

“No one is sorrier than me,” Bellamy added, shooting her a remorseful look. The truth was, he felt like he didn’t help enough. Both of them went into this with hope that everything would turn out fine but having a house filled with people seemed to mean everything but fine.

 

It meant chaos. And Bellamy always was fond of a good measure of chaos, but this was spiralling out of control.

 

“What are we going to do about the food, Bell?” Clarke asked in a shaky voice, her hair completely messy from running her fingers through it. “It’ll all go bad.”

 

“We stick it in the snow,” he suggested. The emotions on her face that followed made him unsure of whether she wanted to have his babies or have his head on a stick. 

 

Which was basically their relationship in a nutshell and all was well with the world.

 

“You know,” she drawled, her eyebrows furrowed, “I didn’t think I’d ever say this, but - that’s a good idea.”

 

He perked up at that, instantly offering, “I’ll recruit Murphy and Jasper. We’ll get it done. What else do you need?”

 

“You’re free to go. Now I need to talk to Miller and Monty.”

 

And with that, Bellamy was off, leaving Clarke alone with the two. She was actually worried because nothing was going according to plan but even that she could ignore. What she couldn’t, though, was the fact that her home would soon become the definition of a fire hazard. 

 

But at least the cat is gone. Not that Clarke wanted to harm cats, no. She just thought that it was for the best that Eggbert Cornelius vanished through the window, missing in action, presumed to be dead.

 

“I need you two,” she pointed at the couple, “to stick something over the window.”

 

They nodded in unison and chimed, “On it!” 

 

Clarke has never felt more like Santa than in that right moment. 

  
  


Later on, when the food was stuck in the snow in front of and behind their house, scorched turkey’s hind legs peeking out of the snow (“It’s a memento,” Raven had told her. “We have to keep it.” and Clarke didn’t have the strength to argue), and the candles were lit all over the house, Clarke was slowly losing her last nerve.

 

She knew that human body had a lot of nerves but you know, even they weren’t infinite. So when Raven popped into the kitchen, Clarke’s current safe haven, to ask “Have you told Bellamy already?” she nearly punched her.

 

“When in the hell would I have done that? Somewhere between getting you out of the mall jail, the cat exploding and coordinating sticking all the food in the snow?” Clarke scoffed. “Yeah, Bellamy, honey, we’re having a baby, now stick that turkey in the snow like you mean it!”

 

Raven shrugged, nonchalant as ever - even with burns on her hands. “It’d be a good way to tell him.”

 

“Yeah, and then organize his funeral because he’d have a heart attack. And then I’d be husband-less and baby would be fatherless and I’d be left alone with this weird fucking family.”

 

With that, she exhaled, dropping her head into her hands and looking up only when Raven poked her in the shoulder. 

 

“Do you want me to clear out the house for you two?”

 

The sentiment behind Raven’s seemingly casual question really brought Clarke to tears and Wells found them curled up on the kitchen floor half an hour later, Clarke sobbing into Raven’s shirt and Raven patting Clarke’s head gently, saying, “There, there, little shitweasel. All will be well.”

 

“The fuck are you two doing?” he asked, apparently having lost all of his signature cool. 

 

Raven shot him a glare, hissing, “How dare you! She’s pregnant, you can’t upset her!”

It was only when Wells’ eyes widened comically, threatening to boggle out of his head, that Raven realized what she’d said and pressed her hands to her mouth, “Shit, I am so sorry!”

 

Wells broke out in the world’s largest grin, rushing towards them to swoop up Clarke in a tight hug and then pressed his ear to her stomach, “Is it there? Is it a boy? Is it a girl? Does Bellamy know? Oh my God, I’m gonna be an uncle!”

 

Without waiting to hear her answers, he ushered her towards a chair, talking a hundred miles per minute, “You just sit there, you hear me? I’ll throw everyone out and Raven will get you hot chocolate and would you like an extra pillow?”

 

“Wells,” Clarke warned him, grateful for her best friend who had never failed her, “I’m fine. Stop fussing. And Bellamy doesn’t know so, keep it quiet.”

 

Wells frowned. “You shouldn’t be stressing out this much, should you?”

 

“I’m not stressing out, I’m just-” 

 

And then she caught a view of Petra running with a lit candle and all but jumped out of her seat, “Drop the candle, Petra!”

 

The conversation was pretty much finished after that. 

  
  


Finally, the Christmas dinner, Bellamy thought as he made his way towards the dining room with one of the five turkeys they'd bought in his hand. Sure, it wasn’t perfect - they were sitting in the darkness, safe for a few small candles in front of everyone’s plates and Thelonious announced he’d be giving a speech on Eggbert’s life, but.

 

Clarke was there. She was smiling, albeit a little nervously, and everything might have been a wreck but they’d always been like this. Sticking with each other through thick and thin, through good and bad. Bellamy and Clarke, Clarke and Bellamy. The two fearless leaders of an army of over twenty people.

 

It was good enough for him, when he sat down next to her and squeezed her hand on the table top. Clarke smiled at him, the way she sometimes did - like it surprised her that he’s there, like his presence made her happy.

 

And that, in turn, made him happy. 

 

“Alright, kids!” Octavia shouted, clapping. “Dinner’s ready!” 

 

Watching his sister grow up from being a kid with scraped knees and perpetually messy ponytails to a woman who she is now - fearless, smart,  _ good _ . In the end, he’s proud that their hardships didn’t turn her into a bad person. Sometimes that’s enough. And sometimes they get even more. 

 

“Whatcha staring at, big brother?” she asked him, a playful smile tugging on her lips as she took a seat on his left. Lincoln was right next to her and even Petra and Percy seemed like they’d be good for this dinner.

 

Honestly, he wouldn’t trade his niece and nephew for any kids in the world. Yeah, they’re a little wild and up to no good all the time, but - all the best people are. 

 

“I’m just happy,” he shrugged. 

 

And if the way Octavia rested her head on his shoulder was anything to go by, she was, too. 

 

Their mother was watching them, seated next to Abby and Marcus on the other side of the table, smiling proudly. Yeah, the three of them have been through a lot of things together but there they were - happy, clothed, warm, with each other. 

 

All of that made Bellamy smile, even when Thelonious clinked his fork to his glass, clearing his throat. “I’d like to say a few words.”

 

Bellamy smiled wider, always in the mood for speeches. After all, Thelonious Jaha was a wise man and despite his eccentricity, there was a lot someone could learn from him.

 

“I would like to say a few words about Eggbert Cornelius, who will be dearly missed.”

 

And the opportunity to learn anything was gone with the wind as everyone’s faces turned sour and Clarke exhaled shakily on Bellamy’s right.

 

Clarke was not ready for this. Clarke was ready for a slightly chaotic Christmas, but not for a Christmas that would have a literal body count. It was a cat’s but still.  _ A body count _ . 

 

“Eggbert Cornelius was a good friend, before he was a good cat,” Thelonious continued, seemingly unaware that his son’s fiancee was trying to stop Wells from bashing his head in with the plate in front of him. “He was stubborn but always in the right. A really good friend, like I said, always there to defend our yard from intruders.”

 

With that, he chuckled fondly and outrage replaced surprise on Bellamy’s face. Clarke wanted to tell him that everything would be alright but who even know what would happen?

 

“Eggbert Cornelius was not without his faults, of course.”

 

Miller grimaced at the plate in front of him and muttered, “ _ Now _ he admits it.”

 

“He prefered red color to blue, something we could never agree on.”

 

Clarke was pretty sure Miller twitched because Monty kicked him in the shin below the table to stop him from protesting.

 

“And, of course, he did not like anything but soy milk but, alas, he was a cat of fine tastes.”

 

Raven shot Thelonious a glare, a completely catatonic Wells at her side. Clarke could relate, she really could.

 

“We have lost a good friend, today. Eggbert Cornelius was a better human than most of humans are and -”

 

Thelonious was interrupted in the middle of his speech by Petra and Percy’s blurry outlines running behind him and holding up what seemed like a fuse from the fuse box Raven couldn’t fix.

 

“Damn it! Keep your progeny in control, Woods!” Thelonious shouted, moving away out of the twins’ path and prompting everyone else to burst out laughing. 

 

Clarke would get her niece and nephew the best birthday present, she would. She’d even take them to Disneyland. Anything they want, just because they stopped Thelonious in his rant about his cat.

 

Which was still horrible, even though you’re not supposed to talk ill of the dead. 

 

If he was dead. 

 

Thelonious turned towards Bellamy and Clarke suddenly, his brows furrowed and sounding visibly distressed as he told them, “If these two’s descendants are this wild, I am afraid to even imagine what the spawn you have made will be like.”

 

Ok, she’d stab him with the fork. Clarke would stab Thelonious Jaha with a fork and there was no way anyone ever was going to stop her - 

 

Bellamy’s voice cut through the silence around the table, prompted by Thelonious’ comment, and it was very quiet, very serious. “Clarke?”

 

And then everything spun into motion. Aurora and Abby shrieked in unison, Vera offered her a butterscotch, Marcus clapped Bellamy on the back, Raven and Octavia high-fived across the table, Murphy and Emori went to pour some whiskey, and Jasper - 

 

Jasper fainted, his face landing right into his soup.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: we don't hate cats and no cats have been hurt in the process of writing this chapter.
> 
> But Eggbert Cornelius is the worst.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn't so bad and at least they got rid of the cat. Or did they?

“Clarke, is that true?” Bellamy asked again, placing a hand on her shoulder and looking at her very seriously.

 

She was so frustrated with everything. It had all been building and building and building ever since she and Bellamy decided to host Christmas at their new house. Wells was right, this kind of stress was no good for the baby.

 

“Bellamy,” she said as calmly as she could managed, closing her eyes in attempt to steel herself. “Can I speak to you outside for a moment?” he nods and then follows her out onto their front porch, grabbing a jacket of his to drape across her shoulders.

 

“I just don't think I can handle this much longer, Bell. I'm going fucking insane. I love all of our friends and family more than life itself but they're so intense! And I just wanted this Christmas to be perfect but we have a burnt turkey, a body count, no power, and a baby bomb I was nowhere near ready for! It's like one of those movies where everything goes wrong! We’re on the brink of becoming an actual madhouse Bellamy. I'm going insane, almost as insane as Thelonious Jaha for believing his fucking cat was a saint.” she was tearing up at the amount of frustration she was feeling, and her arms were flailing wildly as she yelled in every direction, not particularly caring if they disturbed their grouchy neighbor Indra.

 

“Clarke! Hey, babe, breathe with me, okay?” He told her, hands coming up to rest on her shoulders in attempt to calm his frantic wife. “Slow down. So is it true?”

 

Clarke sighed, reaching into her pocket that still held the little red bow and strings Octavia had gifted her with that morning, and haphazardly tied it around her stomach.

 

“Surprise?” She shrugged, watching his face slowly turn from confusion into awe. “We're having a baby,” she smiled. “We're going to be parents, Bell,” she said with a tearful chuckle.

 

“Oh- holy shit. Oh my god, really?” He asked, tears of joy filling his eyes as he scooped her up into his arms and lifted her up off the ground. “This is fantastic!”

 

“I wanted it to be special,” she told him with a smile when he placed her back onto the ground. “But Dr. Doolittle  in there kind of spoiled it with his stupid fucking cat speech,” she laughed wholeheartedly.

 

“It was perfect,” he chuckled, nuzzling his nose into her neck with his arms still wrapped tightly around her. “It certainly took me by surprise,” he confessed, dropping to his knees so that he was eyelevel with her stomach. “Hello in there,” he smiled brightly. “This is your daddy speaking,” he announced, pressing a sweet kiss over her shirt. “And I'm really sorry to inform you that this family you're going to be born into is absolutely insane.”

 

“Let's go deliver the good news,” She beamed, tangling her fingers in his hair.

 

Bellamy rose up from his knees slowly, taking a good look at his wife. Her cheeks were tinged with pink, whether from the cold or from all the chaos, but she was smiling at him. And they were having a baby.

 

God, they really were. He wrapped his arm around her waist, gently steering her inside. The noise died down and when they stepped into the living room, it was weird.

 

It was really weird.

 

Clarke’s eyes flicked to him and Bellamy shrugged because he couldn’t exactly explain why everyone was politely seated (well, except for Jasper - still knocked out, with an embarrassed-looking Maya shooting the two of them a remorseful look), their voices never rising above a whisper and with Abby at the head of the table, as general-looking as Clarke can get sometimes.

 

When they noticed them entering, Abby cleared her throat, shooting Thelonious one final angry look. Bellamy had never loved his mother-in-law more.

 

“We are really sorry,” she started. “Aren’t we, Theo?”

 

Thelonious nodded, scowling at the table in front of him. He murmured, “We promise to behave.”

 

Bellamy could feel Clarke trying to keep herself from laughing right next to him and she nodded, biting into her cheek. “Thank you.”

 

“Alright,” Abby said. “Now, like we practiced -”

 

The whole dining room erupted into a roarious shout of “Congratulations” and clapping, rising their noise levels into unimaginable heights, but Bellamy felt a smile tugging on his mouth and maybe their baby would be born into a totally crazy family, but.

 

It’d be loved.

 

Miller and Monty were the closest ones to them and the first ones to wrap them into a hug, with Miller saying, “Congrats on the baby, guys. That’s so much cooler than our surprise.”

 

“Yeah,” Monty agreed, pecking Clarke’s cheek again. “We were just going to tell you guys that we’re engaged.”

 

“You are?” Clarke asked, incredulous. It was a long time coming and everyone knew that if anyone would get married, it’d be Miller and Monty. “Congratulations!”

 

“Yeah, well,” Miller said, the tips of his ears going a little pink, “Monty finally popped the question.”

 

Their mothers apologized for being overbearing in unison, Kane clapped Bellamy on the back, Vera offered them a butterscotch, but Murphy congratulating them was their personal favorite.

 

John Murphy, ever the lovable asshole, just approached them with a crooked smile and said, “Let’s just hope the kid won’t be a dick like you two are.”

 

Coming from Murphy, that was as close to a heartfelt statement as it got and Bellamy may or may not have gotten slightly teary-eyed at that.

 

After being congratulated by anyone and everyone and Jasper startling himself awake to say “I ship it!” (completely unnecessary, actually, but still kind of cute), Bellamy cleared his throat and announced in a stern voice,

 

“I don’t care what the rest of you do, but my wife and our baby are gonna go take a nap now. If anyone,” he scanned the rest of the room, everyone swallowing hard and slightly afraid, “dares to wake them up, they’ll have to deal with me. And I won’t be disobeyed.”

 

With that, he took Clarke’s hand and whispered, “Get out while you still can”. Predictably, the rest of the room erupted in chatter but by the time they made it upstairs, everything went quiet.

 

“I’ll make sure no one disturbs you,” he told her, as serious as she’d only seen him when Octavia was giving birth and Clarke had to stop both him and Lincoln from smothering Octavia with worry.

 

“Bell, seriously, I’m fine,” she explained, but to no avail. Bellamy settled her back onto the pillows, brought another five of them and three blankets. “I’m not freezing, I’m pregnant.”

 

“Well we don’t exactly have any power right now, do we? And no power means no heat. So cover up and like it.”

 

She shot him a glare.

 

“Please?” He tried again, tucking the blankets in at the sides. She smiled and shrugged.

 

“I’ll allow it. Come wake me if things get too out of hand?” She pleaded with him, reaching up to push his curls out of his eyes.

 

“Don’t count on it,” he chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. “Now rest.”

 

She smiled at him and watched him go, closing the door behind him.

 

By all means, it should have been easy to fall asleep. Everyone was relatively quiet, she was warm, finally resting after what seemed like eons of nothing except for stress, but.

 

It was weird. Not being called to put out a fire or stop a catastrophe from happening was weird, out of the usual, and Clarke let out a long-suffering groan before throwing the covers off and setting off to see what’s going on with the rest of her family.

 

When she came downstairs, Wells was sitting on the bottom step with Raven’s feet in his lap. She seemed to be dozing off and Wells was absolutely shocked to see her.

 

“Clarke? What are you doing?”

 

“Making sure no one sets anything on fire,” she stated, stepping over Raven’s legs and grabbing onto the railing so as to not get hurt in the process. The house was still in the darkness but at least it wasn’t as cold as it could have been.

 

Wells frowned. “Bellamy won’t like it.”

 

“Wells, you’re my best friend and I love you, but you have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.”

 

“I’m serious, he ordered us to keep it shut and already threw Murphy out because he coughed.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Clarke rolled her eyes, “I’m pretty sure it isn’t that bad.”

 

But it was. By the time she entered the living room, she was taken aback by the disturbing amount of silence. Petra and Percy were quietly being read to by Lincoln in the corner, Octavia was sleeping sprawled across their laps, Clarke’s mom and Marcus were patiently accepting a butterscotch from Vera, Miller and Monty were exchanging looks of worry and Thelonious was glaring in -

 

Bellamy’s direction. Bellamy, who looked as stern as Clarke had ever seen him, stood on the opposite side of the room, surveying the crowd with his arms crossed at his chest. Whenever someone moved an inch, his eyes flicked towards where they were.

 

When he noticed Clarke, he raised an eyebrow. “What do you think you’re doing?”

 

“Oh, good, Clarke’s back!” Jasper chimed, picking himself up from the floor where Maya already looked exasperated to have to contain the ball of enthusiasm that her boyfriend was, only to be shot down by Bellamy’s glare. “Which means we’ll be even quieter.”

 

“That you will,” Bellamy confirmed, nodding curtly. His attention then shifted to Clarke and where she would normally like it (it was her husband, after all), now she didn’t appreciate him trying to mother her. “Clarke, explanation?”

 

“Cut it out, Bellamy,” she warned him. “I’m not sick.”

 

“You’re pregnant!”

 

“So?”

 

“Our family is a stressor and you need to rest.”

 

“Bellamy, I don’t give a shit if I’m pregnant. I will kick your ass. Then I will divorce you, kick your ass again and make your family love me more.”

 

With that, she entered the room and, with a pointed glare in Bellamy’s direction, sat herself right down between Jasper and her mom. Jasper still had bits of soup on his face and she flicked a broccoli off the top of his head, snuggling closer.

 

Sure, they were in the dark, the power having been cut out when Eggbert fried the lights, they didn’t have turkey - except for the burned one in the snow outside, and yeah, half of their living room furniture was broken, but.

 

“It wasn’t so bad, as far as holidays go,” Clarke finally said, smiling. Thelonious was scowling in the corner, muttering something about cats being better than people, everyone was wearing Marcus’ knitted sweaters and Emori even asked for a butterscotch of her own volition.

 

Maybe she still wanted to deck someone with a curtain rod but Clarke at least had friends who actually did it. And those kind of people were the ones you wanted around.

 

“Yeah,” Bellamy agreed from across the room, hesitantly going over to where Clarke was sitting and curling up next to her feet. “Not so bad.”

 

“And at least we got rid of the cat.”

 

Everyone took a moment to appreciate the serendipitous blessing. Well, everyone except for Thelonious. But it was alright and for the first time this holiday season, Clarke truly believed that everything would be great.

 

(It mostly came with knowing that everyone would be out of her hair the next day.)

 

And then, a shriek.

 

Everyone’s heads snapped towards the tarp covering the window in unison, only to see an ominous shadow and hear another piercing wail.

 

“We’re gonna die!” Jasper shouted, tugging at Clarke and Maya. “Protect me!”

 

“No one is dying,” Lincoln assured him, standing up to inspect the tarp and the weird shadow that emitted these ghoulish moans. Even Clarke’s blood ran still as they waited.

 

Lincoln removed the tarp, exposing them to the chill coming from the outside, and in ran a ball of hair.

 

A ball of -

 

“Eggbert,” Bellamy gasped.

 

Sure enough, there was Eggbert Cornelius, lying in the middle of their living room, his claws out and just shrieking at every single one of them as if they had failed him somehow.

 

The fur around his mouth looked charred and black, probably from being fried by the severed christmas lights. The rest of the fur on his body stood up at the ends, and he looked pissed. More pissed than usual. He was ready to pounce, and Miller, whom probably hated the cat more than anyone, was right in Eggbert Cornelius’ line of fire.

 

But then Vera Kane, courageous as ever, stepped forward and knelt down to the demons level of perception, even with her bad knees. She reached into her pocket, pulled out one of her famous linty butterscotches, and held it out to the beast.

 

Eggbert’s eyes widened in hunger, and he gratefully accepted the offering, and then, much to everyone's surprise he nuzzled Vera’s legs happily.

 

“Okay, how is that thing even still alive?” Miller asked, gesturing to the scene playing out in front of them.

 

“Well, you know what they say,” Octavia said with a chuckle.

 

“What do they say, Mommy?” percy asked, looking up at his mother with curiosity in his eyes.

 

“Get electrocuted by christmas lights, get back up.”

  
And Clarke had never related to anything more in her life. This christmas might have seemed like a disaster, but they managed to survive. And she would never dream of spending it with anyone other than the people in this room with her. It truly was a holiday season nobody would ever forget.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, guys, that's a wrap! We loved writing this fic and we hope you liked reading it, too. Thank you all so much for sticking with us, for commenting and reading. It was a pleasure!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all for reading! We sincerely hope you liked it and if you did, please let us know by leaving kudos and comments. :)
> 
> We're also on tumblr; [here](http://rebellam-y.tumblr.com) and [here](http://marauders-groupie.tumblr.com).


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